


Atlas Hands

by Dammit_Jim



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Modern AU, PTSD Thorin, Reincarnation AU with a twist, SUPER SLOW BUILD, Spoilers for the Hobbit movies/books, allusions to torture, amnesiac Thorin, some but very few OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 64,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3685476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dammit_Jim/pseuds/Dammit_Jim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil had come to realise that immortality was a well-disguised curse. After decades of regret, he had become the self-loathing and less confident man known as Lee. Then he met Richard, who shared an uncanny resemblance with Thorin Oakenshield. </p><p>At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. There were countless reasons why Richard couldn’t be Thorin - not to mention the fact he was very much human. But what if, despite all impossibilities, this was Thorin Oakenshield, born again? What would happen if Thorin remembered who he - or more importantly, who Thranduil was?</p><p>To make matters worse Richard seems to have developed a crush on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In Greek mythology Atlas was a Titan condemned by Zeus to support the heavens/sky upon his shoulders. He is represented as a human figure holding up the heavens or the Earth upon his shoulders. To call somebody an ‘Atlas’ is to say that they support a great burden.
> 
> Inspiration for the modern day Lee/Thranduil and Richard/Thorin characters came from their counterparts in the shows Pushing Daises and Halt and Catch Fire (Lee Pace), as well as Strike Back and Spooks (Richard Armitage). 
> 
> All of ‘The Hobbit’ character’s modern counterparts are given the names of their actors (though they are sometimes referred to by their Dwarven names). This will be further explained in the chapters.

 

The nightmares were always the same. Bloody and horrible, filled with regret and anxiety and terrible, terrible choices. Thranduil slept like no elf should: deeply, and with troubling dreams. At night he dreamt of the past and regretted, and in the day he baked and regretted. That was his life now, and it had been his life for a good many years.

The present century was far into the Age of man; the last of the elves had left for Valinor, the Undying Lands, back in the Third and Fourth Age and very few, if any - other than Thranduil, remained. With his people’s magic waning, his kingdom had collapsed. Mirkwood was renamed Greenwood, then forgotten, and then renamed again, and then destroyed to make way for towns and cities and highways. The few plants that grew where Greenwood had once been, flourished with the weak magic that still filled the soil. What magic _he_ had left was volatile and fading.

Thranduil did not visit that place. It was no longer his home. He’d found a home in a flat, in a bakery, in friends and in a facade called Lee. The name was the most boring, least kingly name he could come up with. A man’s name, for that was what he was now. He was no king. He no longer wanted nor needed what came with such titles.

He had been a terrible king, he knew that now, wrathful when he should have been forgiving and cowardly when he should have been brave; But for the life of him, he could not see any other path alternative from the one he had taken. A king’s life was a hard one, and at least that thought stilled his mind long enough to allow him rest. He believed he wasn’t much of a son or a husband or a father either, and he took some comfort in the fact Legolas had not stayed behind but had taken one of the last ships to Valinor.

From King to baker, some might laugh. Except that he had been many more things after a King and before a baker: a healer, a botanist, a librarian and so on. But in the bakery Thranduil could forget the past and forget who he was and immerse himself in creating and in being Lee, the anti-social, odd, gangly stranger who worked in the Pie Café.

The Pie Café was one in a string of bakeries that Lee owned and that were situated on street corners or in the lobbies of corporate buildings. It was only one business he owned, among others such as a line of hotels, banks and so on. With so many business, and so much money accumulated over the years he didn't need to work. Though, with the endless years that pressed down on him, and with the promise of many, many more to come he immersed himself in what work he could, and working for himself had its obvious advantages.

 

Lee was finishing off the last in a long line of pies that were awaiting the oven. While doing this he listened to Chuck - his short, bubbly co-worker, who seemed offensively awake at all hours of the day. She was in the middle of retelling him an elaborate and amusing tale about her latest disastrous date when the counter’s bell rang. He wiped his hands down on his apron and was about to leave the kitchen to greet the customer when his eyes fell upon who it was waiting.

The man’s ice-blue eyes met his, before looking away momentarily. It was a split second decision for Lee to step out of the doorway and press himself up against the kitchen wall. His mind went blank and for a moment he forgot where he was. He was suddenly back in Middle Earth, in his throne room, staring down at a stubborn, prideful dwarven prince.

_“I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honour his word should the end of all days be upon us!”_

He could clearing hear his deep, rumbling voice, shouting, swearing, declaring him dishonest.

_“I’ve seen how you treat your friends.”_

He could see it, that fateful day on the battlefield. The day he turned his back.

_“We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us!”_

“Lee?”

He blinked.

The kitchen came into view, then his co-workers face, then her words, jumbled Westeron, met his ears. 

“Lee are you alright?” Chuck asked.

It was almost painful forcing down the Sindarin ready to fly through his lips.

“I’m fine,” he managed, “Take care of the customer.”

In the mean time, the customer watched the kitchen doorway with a quiet curiosity. He’d seen the man standing in the doorway, and wondered where he’d disappeared to in the short moment he’d looked away. He wondered, as he casually tapped his fingers on the counter, whether he’d imagined the shock in the stranger’s eyes.

After a moment a woman exited the kitchen and greeted him, before asking with a bright smile, “Do you know what you’d like?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” he answered, his eyes still trained on the kitchen doorway.

The customer did not see Lee visibly shudder at the sound of his voice. Lee couldn’t be sure but in that once quick glance he had thought he’d seen the dwarf. The voice was certainly Thorin’s but the rest of the man…

Lee sneaked a second glance, and took in everything he could of the man’s appearance, his curly black hair pulled back into a ponytail, his short beard, his pointed nose and piercing blue eyes. There was no mistaking that face. Lee returned to his hiding spot and closed his eyes, willing his mind to make sense of the situation.

But it couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t be possible. Thorin had died Lee gritted his teeth. There was no way the man could be Thorin. Dwarves could not be reincarnated…and the man standing by the counter was certainly no dwarf. It had to be some sort of odd doppleganger-situation or his mind playing tricks on him. Dwarves couldn’t be reincarnated for Eru’s sake.

And yet…

“Are you buying pies for any sort of special occasion?”

“For my nephews, actually.”

Lee grimaced at the news. As daft as it seemed the man standing in his Café was beginning to sound more and more like the long-dead rightful King of Erebor. Could those nephews be the same two that had died in the Battle of the Five Armies? Thranduil could see their still bodies in his mind, Tauriel kneeling over the youngest as tears rolled down her face. She’d asked him why it hurt so much. _Because it was real._ He’d known that grief. He was still haunted by it, though it accompanied the memories of many different faces now, many more than just his beloved wife.

There were dozens of reasons why it couldn’t be Thorin, and very few explanations to support the fact it was him. There were legends about dwarven reincarnation, sure, but they were simply legends. No one had ever proven them true.

There could be an elf or wizard who might try to bring Thorin back to life but for what purpose? What would be the point of bringing him back? Even if Lee had wanted to it would have been dangerous. It was one thing to bring someone back from the brink of death, another to bring them back from the dead, let alone after countless centuries. But even that theory was heavily flawed. It could not explain why he was no longer a dwarf.

He jumped when his co-worker returned to the kitchen, giving Lee an odd look as she passed him.

He tried to calm his wildly beating heart as she worked. If it was Thorin he hadn’t recognised him and that was all that mattered. If he’d recognised him then-

“I can see your arm,” the rumbling voice declared.

Lee gritted his teeth as he pulled his arm back behind the wall. 

Not-Thorin simply watched on in quiet amusement. “Don’t mind Lee,” he was told as the pies he’d ordered were handed to him, “He’s an odd guy but really nice once you get to know him.”

“Yeah…” Not-Thorin said, unsurely, before thanking the woman and leaving with two boxes of pie under his arm.

“What was that all about?” Chuck asked.

“Is he gone?” Lee asked.

She nodded.

He let out a long sigh, “It’s a long story.”

“Come on, Lee,” she gave him an exasperated look.

She reminded him of the foolish joy and untainted innocence of some young elves he used to know. It was probably one of the reasons why he liked her, that and she didn’t seem to mind his oddness. She seemed to like Lee, even if he was just a mask Thranduil wore. It was as if she were his only guilt-free link to the past.

“I thought he was dead,” he admitted.

“Dead as in disappeared or…” Chuck asked.

“I saw him die,” he frowned, “I thought I had…”

“Who is he? I’m guessing not a friend by the way you reacted.”

“Definitely not a friend,” he replied, biting his lip, “We were…acquaintances. We never really saw eye to eye and…well I…I was cruel to him when he needed my help.”

“Well he didn’t seem too upset.”

“No,” Lee grimaced, “I don’t think he recognised me,” he sighed and crossed his arms, shaking his head in frustration, “There’s something off about him,” only a _little_ something, “He’s not the same…he looks like him but it’s not…him”

Chuck pursed her lips, “You look pale,” she muttered, “I’d say you looked as if you’d seen a ghost but apparently that’s not too far from the truth.”

Lee sighed, “You have no idea…” 

“Maybe you should take the afternoon off.”

Lee pushed her hand away.

Chuck took his hand and frowned at it, “You’re freezing!”

He pulled his hand from her grip and began massaging his pounding forehead. Maybe he should go. He needed to let the experience sink in, and maybe do some research. There had to be some information online, surely? Thank Eru for the new age of technology. 

“Okay,” he finally relented, “I’ll go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Each night he had a new dream, filled with magic and monsters._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this quicker than I thought I would. Thank you all for the kind comments. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Thorin swung his sword back and forth, slicing through grey skin and purple flesh. Orcs squealed and roared all about him but they never managed to lay a hand on him. He was grinning despite himself. He could see Dwalin out of the corner of his eye, ramming two orcs together, and Balin pulling his sword from a fallen orc. They were going to win, Thorin thought. But it was too soon to feel such luxuries as relief. A flash of white caught his eye and he looked toward it, and found his grandfather standing before a huge orc. What happened next happened so quickly he felt as if he hadn’t even had time to blink. The pale orc moved to strike and in one fell swing, Thorin’s grandfather was dead, his father driven mad, and he…he was king.

He woke with a jolt and stared at the ceiling for a long time before he realised he was in his apartment in London, England, and not in his chambers in Erebor, Middle Earth. His dreams, after returning from Afghanistan, were always the same. He’d be fighting alongside his team, just like he had in the desert, but this time they’d be carrying swords instead of guns, and wearing heavy chain mail instead of bullet-proof vests. He was a prince in his dreams. Not only a prince but a dwarven one, using the codename he’d had in Afghanistan as if it were his real name.

Richard ran a hand across his face. He’d become used to these dreams. The first had been pleasant. He’d walked back and forth through what his dream-self had called the “halls of his grandfather’s” - a mighty cathedral-like cave system deep within a mountain; A kingdom called Erebor. It was a pleasant dream. His psychiatrist, Dr Grey, had warned him that nightmares would be likely but Richard had been hopeful that he might be an exception. In the end Dr Grey was right, though. The dreams stopped being pleasant and began being terrifying. In his dreams he ran from monstrous enemies, closely availing death, and watching his friends fall and his family die. But his dreams remained fantastical; he was still a dwarf prince of a mighty dwarven race, albeit a recently crushed and sparsely distributed one.

Each night he had a new dream, filled with magic and monsters. Over the months he’d realised that the dreams were taking place in the same world, and in the same life time and were simply experienced in a non-chronological order. Richard began writing the dreams down, and trying to piece them together, but they never seemed to fit. They were just too foreign, too strange.

Richard had never known his grandfather but he had come to think fondly of this fictitious Kingly dwarf in his dreams and…now he was gone. Just like that. He was shaking violently when he came to. His face was wet, and the palms of his hands sore from the crescent moons he’d dug into them. He climbed out of bed and tried to convince himself that he was being stupid, that it was only a dream. He made himself breakfast, read the newspaper and tried to distract himself. 

Then he came across the note stuck to his tea kettle. _Fili and Kili are coming at 3. Remember to get them afternoon tea_ , the note read. He’d left it for himself the day before and good thing to because he’d forgotten. He groaned, but not out of annoyance or frustration because he loved his nephews dearly, but simply in prediction of the annoyance and frustration he was going to feel when the boys began their mischief.

At least he had some sort of plan for the day. He would visit his psychiatrist and then pick up his nephews. His psychiatrist kept telling him he needed to plan as many things as he could; it apparently helped with the depression. Richard didn’t feel depressed, he simply felt…uninterested in the rest of the world. Who cared about the most recent movies or who was going to win the next football match? He’d just fought a war for these people and everyone seemed intent on pretending everything was alright. He didn’t want to go out into that world. He wanted to stay at home, in his bed. He wanted to sleep. (Dr Grey had told him that _that_ was exactly what depression was).

He couldn’t decide whether he hated or enjoyed his sessions with Dr Grey. The old man was interesting, to say the least, and he had a habit of being oddly casual with him. He could be both incredibly stern at times and yet retain an immeasurable kindness and understanding. Overall he was an odd man but he was logical and Richard admired that. It was probably why he liked him so much. He didn’t like the idea of a psychiatrist messing around in his head but if he had to have one he was glad it was Dr Grey. Especially if they planned on pulling down the carefully-constructed walls he’d created. Richard couldn’t help being stubborn when it came to such attempts.

“How are you feeling today Richard?”

“Jolly.”

“Are you still having flashbacks?”

“Frequently.”

“And how are you sleeping?”

“Badly.”

Dr Grey sighed, “If you want these sessions to work, Richard, I’m going to need a bit more from you. Are you still having nightmares?”

To spite the doctor Richard gave him no answer and instead nodded.

“Would you like to tell me about them?” Dr Grey asked, gently.

“Not particularly, no,” was his reply.

“Richard, we need to discuss something. You’re not often this closed off. I understand that it might be difficult to talk about them but if it’s memories that are resurfacing it might be best to discuss them.”

Richard licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed nervously, “They are…memories of sorts,” he said slowly, “It’s not so much that they’re difficult - they are - but it’s more that I’m…” He looked to Dr Grey to see the man watching and waiting patiently, “I guess…I’m embarrassed to say,” he admitted.

Dr Grey frowned, and placed his notepad down on the table, “How so?”

“They’re…unusual.”

“I’m not going to judge you.”

Richard looked out of the window again, searching for something to stare at, “In the dreams I see my friends, my family, people I know and others…I don’t,” he began, “But the world is different.”

“Different how?” Dr Grey prompted.

“It’s like…I’m back in time. I see myself fighting alongside the team I worked with in Afghanistan but we’re fighting with swords instead of guns, dressed in chain mail instead of camo and bullet-proof-vests.” He didn’t mention that they were dwarves. He didn’t need to embarrass himself further.

“That seems perfectly normal,” Dr Grey said after a quiet moment. “You have placed your friends and family in an environment that is a romanticised, fairy-tale-like world in an attempt to dissociate from the painful memories. In a way it is simply your brain’s attempt at protecting you.”

Richard frowned, “I guess…”

“When did this begin?”

“After the…” he looked down and tried to focus on his hands, “Before I was deported.”

“During the torture?”

Richard closed his eyes and grimaced, seeing flashes of serrated knives and thin rope, and dark, windowless rooms with cold, concrete floors, of a bucket of red-stained water, of bubbles rushing passed his face, his precious oxygen leaving him to die-

“Richard? Mr Durinson?”

He jolted upright, and blinked away the memories, before attempting to hold a steady gaze with his doctor, “I’m fine.”

“Are you alright to discuss it?”

“We’ve discussed it before,” he answered, perhaps a little harshly.

Dr Grey retrieved his notes and flicked through them, “The man who…his name is Azog?” he asked.

Richard gave a sigh, “Yes.”

“And you believe he is working for Smaug, a high-end businessman?”

Richard nodded, “Smaug is at the centre of it all. He’s got his fingers in England’s politics and military. He works on both sides of the war. He was responsible for my kidnapping.”

“And also for your grandfather’s death?”

He clenched his fists, “I’m convinced it was Azog who killed him but Smaug must have ordered it.”

"Because Azog is working for Smaug?" 

"He is," he replied firmly.

Dr Grey put down his notes, “Richard, your superior officers have informed me that you have become obsessed with revenge against Azog and Smaug-”

Richard sat straighter, ready to defend himself, “Wouldn’t you be obsessed with finding the man who caused your family to become bankrupt, who killed your grandfather, and sent your father mad?” he demanded, angrily.

“I would.”

Richard frowned, “What?”

The room itself seemed to grow darker as Dr Grey stared at him purposefully, “I _would_ be intent on revenge,” he repeated. Then, just like that, the atmosphere returned to normal. Dr Grey readjusted his suit and waved a hand, “Of course, if the allegations where true - which they are not. Plus even if they were I cannot encourage you to seek out this Smaug and bring him, and everyone of his lackeys, down. That would, of course be illegal and immoral of me to do so. Additionally, I cannot aid you in any such endeavours,” Dr Grey ripped a section of paper out of his notepad and began scribbling something down, “However, if you wished to discuss such matters, hypothetically, of course, as part of your recovery, then…” he handed the paper over.

Richard glanced at the scrap of paper and was surprised to find a phone number.

“…It would have to be confined to this room wherein anything that you told me which might give me cause to think you intended violence upon a member of the public would have to be reported.”

“I understand,” Richard replied, pocketing the phone number. 

He felt giddy. This was exactly what he needed. Someone else who was willing to help, who had a good standing in the community, who had contacts. Of course Dr Ian Grey's background would have to be checked out but if this was legitimate, if Dr Grey was genuine and did want to help then…Richard felt like he was one step closer to success. He knew he liked Dr Grey for a reason.

His doctor smiled, and then leant back in his chair, “So did you manage to visit that Café I mentioned?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah Gandalf you sneaky bastard. I'm torn between loving him to bits and being frustrated with him for always knowing more than everyone else but he mostly means well so I guess I can forgive him for the latter.
> 
> So in my research of reincarnation and lifespans in Tolkien’s Middle Earth: Elves are immortal but can be killed, and if they are killed their spirits are reincarnated in bodies identical to the ones they had before. (HOW COOL IS THAT?!?!) Though, why Thranduil's wife never returns to Middle Earth in canon I'll never understand...maybe they can't return to Middle Earth but they can return back to life? And just have to stay in Valinor/Undying Lands??? Anyway, so in this fic Thranduil is never reincarnated because he never died but I thought you guys might find it interesting to know about elven reincarnation.
> 
> Dwarves on the other hand live an average of 250 years but there’s a legend/myth about reincarnation, wherein it is believed that the Durin’s folk (meaning having descended from Durin, ie. Thorin Oakenshield and his family) “were held by the Dwarves to be the reincarnations of the first one, Durin the Deathless, resembling him in appearance and said to have preserved memories of their 'earlier lives’.” So, with this in mind, my fic sort of canon????
> 
> Please tell me what you think of the chapter. I'll update the fic as soon as I can, I promise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What would that stranger from last week have done if he’d recognised you?” Chuck asked._
> 
> _“Probably, try to kill me,” Lee answered._
> 
> _“Well, I’m fairly certain a friendly smile is not something a would-be-murderer gives you before they try to kill you but well…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing more (cute) characters whoo. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'll work on the next asap.

“What would that stranger from last week have done if he’d recognised you?” Chuck asked.

“Probably, try to kill me,” Lee answered, trying to appear nonchalant as he carefully placed the pastry lid on an apricot pie.

“Well, I’m fairly certain a friendly smile is not something a would-be-murderer gives you before they try to kill you but well…” 

Lee stiffened and looked up, “What?”

She shrugged, before pointing over his shoulder, “He’s seen you.”

He spun on the spot and there, at the counter, was Thorin, and beside him were two young boys, both of whom were swivelling around on their stools. Lee swallowed. It was Thorin. Eru be damned. Thorin was _here_ , in his Café, staring at him in…that wasn’t anger…He looked a little confused if anything - and then annoyed when the dark haired boy slipped off his wildly spinning chair and smacked right into his uncle, and yes that was his uncle because Lee recognised those boys. They were younger, of course, but there was no mistaking them.

“Kili,” Thorin snapped, “Stop fooling around.”

“Sorry uncle,” the boy muttered, eyes downcast.

Well that confirmed that right there, Lee thought. What he didn’t understand though was how calmly Thorin was watching him. It was as if…as if he had no memory of him.

“It was my fault,” the blond boy chirped in, “I told Kili to do it.”

“I don’t care,” Thorin sighed, finally breaking eye contact with Lee, “Just…find a booth and sit still for once in your lives and I’ll get you a pie.”

“One each?” Kili’s eyes widened with hope.

“Depends how still and quiet you are.”

The boys rushed off to claim a booth, giggling behind hands clamped over their mouths. Thorin sighed again and shook his head before turning back to Lee and flashing him a smile.

“Children,” he said.

Lee swallowed, “Yes,” he replied, dumbly.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, “Hey mate weren’t you the guy who was hiding from me last week?”

Lee shook his head, “No…Uh, I mean…” Lee stared…Thorin was _smirking_ at him. Eru be damned. “Yes…?”

“Can I ask why?”

“Uh,” Lee was struck dumb. He was talking to Thorin-fricking-Oakenshield, a Thorin Oakenshield who was back from the grave, and who wasn’t trying to tear him limb from limb but was in fact...smirking at him, and here he was unable to string together a couple of coherent words. _Eru be damned!_

After a moment of silence from Lee, Thorin frowned and turned to his nephews who were being very quiet. He scoffed at their silence, honestly surprised they were managing to keep it up, “Anyway, I’m going to get some pies for the idiots,” he laughed, getting out his wallet, “I’ll get two apple pies and…” Thorin frowned, “Any recommendations, Lee?”

Lee took a deep breath before allowing his Pie Maker facade to paint him invisible, “Uh well we have a blackberry pie, blueberry pie, cherry pie and an apricot pie ready to go in the oven now. I’d recommend the blueberry pie and apricot pie. They seem very popular this week.”

Thorin smiled, “Right, okay well I’ll have the two apple pies, then, and an apricot pie.”

“Sure,” Lee didn’t bother writing down the orders, and instead relayed them to Chuck who was passing by.

“Gotcha,” Chuck smiled.

“They’ll be twenty minutes,” he told Thorin.

“Okay, thanks,” then Thorin smiled, “The name’s Richard by the way.”

“Sorry?”

“Well I know your name, Lee. It’s only fair to give you mine.”

Lee nodded, “Right, yes, sorry,” he smiled, “Richard.”

Then he turned and hurried back into the kitchen. He tried to focus on his baking, but the sudden shouts of Thorin’s nephews and Thorin in turn shushing them in his deep voice made it difficult to think of anything else but the dwarves in his café.

To make matters worse once the pies were done Chuck was no where to be found. “ _Gweriad_ ,” (betrayal) he mumbled to himself in frustration, “That cunning woman.”

He sighed and looked for her one last time before finally relenting and taking the pies out to Thorin…Richard, who met him with a wide grin. The boys’ eyes widened in excitement at the sight of the pies, and Lee couldn’t help giving a small smile at their glee.

“Thanks,” Richard smiled, “The boys have been looking forward to this all week.”

Lee nodded, and smiled at the blond boy who was staring at him.

“How do you like the pies, boys?” Richard asked them.

Neither answered. Kili was too absorbed in eating and Fili was still staring intently at him. Lee tried not to take it personally but then the boy frowned and squinted at him as if he was trying to work something out. 

Richard groaned, “Well they’re speechless, which is a first for them. So I’d say the pies are great success,” he laughed.

Lee nodded absently, watching as Fili nudged his brother, and whispered something in his ear. The wide brown eyes that turned on Lee made him feel sick.

“I…I should go,” Lee muttered, “I have to take the rubbish out,” he didn’t wait to hear Richard’s reply and hurried away.

But he hadn’t even made it to the kitchen before Richard called out to him, “Lee?”

He winced and turned around, trying to give a friendly smile, “Yes?”

“Uh,” Richard looked down nervously for a moment before trying again, “I was wondering…are you free at all? After work? Not necessarily today but…” he gave an apologetic smile, “Did you…Did you want to go for drinks sometime?”

“No.”

Richard looked disappointed, “I uh…sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you…”

“No, it’s fine,” Lee hurriedly added, “Sorry. I’m just…I’m too busy. Sorry, excuse me.” 

Then he high-tailed it out of there. He reached the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. He was shaking, and when he looked up he saw his reflection in the mirror swim before his eyes and grow hazy. He gripped the sink trying to calm his breathing. 

“Lee?”

He jumped, and his reflection settled. Shit. He took a deep breath.

“I’m fine!” he called, “Just feel a bit sick. I’ll…I’ll take an early break.” 

“You sure?” Chuck asked, concerned.

“Yes!” he called back.

When Chuck made no answer he turned back to the mirror and frowned at his reflection. His eyes, bright blue, a little too bright to be natural stared back at him from out of a pale, gaunt face. His dirty blond hair had become a white-blond, and the course strands had become softer. Then, of course, there was the pointed ears. 

He sighed, and sat down on the toilet. He hated that face, that stupid elvish face. Usually it wasn’t a problem. Usually, he could control the glamour without thinking about it but lately it had become harder and harder to keep the glamour up for more than a few days. In the last hundred or so years he was forced to take breaks three times a week. He supposed it was because the last of Middle Earth’s magic was fading away. He was beginning to have to concentrate more and more on holding the glamour up. His nerves didn’t usually affect it but he hadn’t given himself a rest in a week, and after Thorin had shown up…after Thorin had…Thorin…

That couldn’t really be Thorin, could it? He hadn’t recognised him - not that he looked anything like the elf Thorin had hated so much. If Thorin had recognised him he would have tried to kill him surely. But he’d called himself Richard - and the name suited him - and it was as if he was a whole other man altogether. It couldn’t be Thorin! 

Lee felt like screaming with frustration. He had just become accustomed to separating Middle Earth from Modern Earth, and now the dividing walls were coming crashing down. Everything was in a jumble. The man had the same nephews - who even seemed as if they remembered Thranduil. Then there was how he looked, how he sounded. Richard had the same voice as Thorin, the same annoying smirk, the same ice-blue eyes. But there was no way in Middle or Modern Earth that it could be him. It just wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t right. 

Thorin hadn’t even tried to kill him.

—

**Blue print for Dictionary below:**   
**Sindarin/ Quenya – Translation - _Literal Meaning_**

**In order of first appearance to last:**  
**Gweriad** \- betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha Richard stahp. Ah poor Lee. I really wanted to use the word 'fuck' in this but I feel like it would sound weird for Lee/Thranduil to say that and also I find 'Eru be damned' more amusing. I'm so sorry for the short chapters...they'll get longer (I hope).
> 
> Please leave a comment! Thank you


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He found Fili and Kili cornered, attempting to defend themselves against several children._

Whether or not Thorin - Richard, dammit. His name was Richard - remembered, he continued to come to the Pie Café. Sometimes he arrived with his nephews and sometimes without. Sometimes Lee managed to get out of serving him and sometimes Chuck or one of his other coworkers was no where in sight. He had a suspicion that they did it on purpose, just to see him uncomfortable and fumbling for words. Maybe they thought they were doing him a favour. They were not.

Every time Lee saw Richard his chest seized up and his mind went blank. He felt sick at the very thought of him. The day he remembered would be the day Lee could sigh in relief. It would mean Richard would finally leave him alone, it would mean he wouldn’t have to anxiously await the day Thorin Oakenshield woke up. He dreaded what the dwarf would say but the sooner those words were said the sooner Lee could stop having to worry about it.

The days when Lee didn’t have to think about Richard were blessed days. But then, right when Lee had forgotten about the stupid dwarf- man he’d walk passed the Pie Café and flash him a smile. This time, however, when Lee was cleaning down the tables, it wasn’t Richard he saw but Fili and Kili, and instead of walking they were running. Lee frowned when he saw a group of children pass by not too soon afterwards.

He called Chuck to take over before stepping out of the store and into the street. He looked right and just caught a glimpse of a couple of children turning the corner and heading down an alleyway. Curious, and with a sense of foreboding, Lee followed. When he heard shouting he hurried a little faster.

He found Fili and Kili, cornered, attempting to defend themselves against several children.

“-last warning freaks!” one of the children was saying, “Stop sucking up to Mrs M with your stupid stories or we’re going to-”

“They’re not stories!” Kili shouted, earning him a sharp slap.

An image suddenly flashed across Lee’s vision, an image of two young men, bloody and still, all breath and life gone from their bodies. Lee remembered thinking how he might have felt if it were Legolas’ body at his feet. He remembered how he felt when his beloved wife had died. He remembered the look in Tauriel’s eyes.

Lee gritted his teeth, if these stupid children knew who they were talking to, what sacrifices these two boys had made in the past… “What is going on?” he demanded.

The children spun around in shock, and at the sight of an adult, they ran. Lee was about to stop them, he could have, but then he decided in the end it wasn’t worth it. So he turned to Fili and Kili, instead, and found them staring up at him in fear.

“Are you boys alright?”

Now that he got a better look at them Kili had a large bruise across his forehead, and his cheek was beginning to redden. Fili, however, was cradling his wrist and looking quite pale. When the boys didn’t say anything he knelt beside them.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised, “You two remember me right?” he asked, “I work in the Pie Café.”

Kili scrunched his face up in thought and then winced when the action hurt. Lee cupped his face automatically, checking the swore with his thumb. He remembered Legolas falling from a tree once…Lee realised what he was doing and pulled away.

“You’re the guy uncle keeps talking about!” Fili exclaimed at last.

Lee swallowed, “What?” and then sighed because he didn’t want to know what that meant, “Does your uncle know where you are?”

The boys looked to each other unsurely before shaking their heads. Lee sighed again. He could have the boys wait at the Pie Café and go looking for Richard but the idea of leaving Fili if he had indeed broken his wrist didn’t feel right.

“How’s your wrist?” he asked the boy.

Fili bit his lip, “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Do you boys know your Uncle’s phone number?”

It turned out they did. Unfortunately for Lee, Richard didn’t pick up, so instead he ended up leaving him a message: _Hi Th- uh Richard this is Lee from the Pie Café. Fili and Kili were in a fight with some kids just outside my workplace and I think Fili’s wrist might be broken. I’m going to take them to the hospital. I’ll look after them, don’t worry. Call me back when you’re able to._

It was an hour later when Richard finally called. He seemed worried sick but was relieved to hear that Fili’s wrist wasn’t broken but merely sprained. He laughed when Lee relayed Fili’s disappointment at not getting a cast. Lee wanted to hear more of that laugh. But he didn’t joke that his own son had never acted like this, and he did not make a comment about that possibly being because he was raised by elves and not dwarves.

As they waited for Richard, Lee asked the children why they were being picked on. Fili shrugged and Kili didn’t seem like he wanted to say.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to,” Lee told them, “But you should tell your uncle.”

“Uncle doesn’t want to know,” Kili said.

Lee frowned, “What do you mean? He loves you, of course he’ll want to know.”

Fili laughed as if that was a silly thing to say, “We know uncle Thorin loves us.”

Lee blinked. Thorin? Had he just said Thorin? Did the boys remember?

“It’s why he worries so much,” Kili added.

“Only because you wet your bed at night!”

Thranduil smiled at the boy’s antics.

Kili looked mortified, “Well you scream!”

That made him pause, “What?”

Kili looked down at his hands, “Night terrors,” he muttered.

Fili nodded, “About the battle…”

Thranduil clenched his teeth. Eru be damned the boys did remember, and for two children as young as Fili and Kili were. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must be like. Waking up in a new world and still having those memories…and yet not fully comprehending how or why any of it took place. No one should have to live with those memories, and especially not two young boys.

Then Kili shrugged, “Anyway, we were just about to beat ‘em when you got there.”

“Is that right?” Lee asked with a sad smile. Perhaps their innocence protected them from the worst of it - At least, he hoped it did. “You should know that sometimes the smart thing to do is not to fight but to run away,” he told them.

“Like a coward?” Fili scoffed, “Uncle never did.”

“We never did!” Kili added.

“No,” he said perhaps too harshly, 

The boys shied away in fear. He frowned, “Sorry,” and then he continued in a softer voice, “Knowing when you’re beaten isn’t cowardice. Knowing when to stop fighting and to come home is bravery in itself.”

The boys looked down at their hands as if they were being told off. Then Kili looked up, and with all the innocence and lack of accusation that a child can have, asked simply, “Like you did?”

Lee gritted his teeth but before he could speak-

“Oh thank god you two idiots are alright!” came Richard’s relieved voice.

Fili and Kili’s faces lit up at the sight of their uncle and they leapt to their feet, running into his arms. Richard gave them a hug before kneeling down to their level and giving what looked like a stern talking to. Then when he was done he walked over to Lee, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” he waved a hand, “I know what its like to hear they’ve gotten themselves into trouble.”

Richard gave him an odd look, “You have kids?”

“Uh,” Lee fumbled for words, “No.

“Well I’ve good as got them with how often I babysit these two,” he smiled, “My sister’s a single mum so I help when I can…” he grimaced, “Shit she’s going to kill me.”

The look on Richard’s face, that sheer horror in anticipation of his sister’s rage, made Lee laugh, “You weren’t to know where they were. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have been there.”

The smile fell away as he watched Richard. The man grew distant, and watched the boys with sad eyes, and for a moment Lee saw Thorin. He saw his regret and his shame and Lee would have reached out and lain a reassuring hand on his shoulder if not for the fear that those eyes might settle on him.

The moment didn’t last. It was as if a sudden switch was flicked and Richard was back. He turned to Lee, “Anyway, thank you for taking care of them.”

“It’s fine,” Lee promised.

“It’s not really,” he argued, before looking around, “Uh would…” he smiled at him nervously, “Would you let me buy you lunch tomorrow?”

Lee froze, “What?”

“Lunch. You and me. Tomorrow?”

“Uh no…I can’t,” Lee spluttered, “I- don’t take it personally I just…I can’t.” 

Richard looked confused.

“I’m not a great person to get to know…You won’t like me I can assure you,” Lee spluttered, “I don’t date.”

Richard smiled at the end part, “A date?”

“That’s what you meant??” he asked, embarrassedly.

“Well,” Richard was still smiling, “I wanted to ask you but I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested so…” he casually waved to where the twins were playing with the hospital toys, “I thought buying you lunch might be a nice thank you for what you did today for them…for me.”

Lee nodded shakily, “Right.”

“I’d like to get to know you, Lee.”

Lee’s chest seized. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to get to know Thorin, or at least this persona of him. He wanted to sit down and eat and talk like they were old friends, and pretend like he’d never turned his back that fateful day. He wanted to say yes, and before he knew it he already had.

“Great,” Richard grinned, “I wasn’t sure if you’d have work on or not.”

“I can get the day off,” he replied numbly.

Richard nodded, “Awesome, well,” he looked at the kids, “I should take them home.”

Lee couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat so he simply nodded and gave a weak smile as he watched Thorin take his two nephews and walk down the hallway. When they were out of sight he almost collapsed in relief, and then he realised what he’d agreed to. Eru be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops sorry guys I forgot to update. It's here now, though. I hope you can forgive me. I've had a lot of study to do. (I'm so behind cries).
> 
> Please leave a comment! Thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"This isn’t a date,” Lee said, “I thought that was clear.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for all the amazing comments. I'm so pleased you are liking the fic, and getting excited about it. Hearing that really does make my day. I hope I can continue to entertain you and that I don't disappoint. Do keep telling me what you think!

Lee read over the text again to make sure he’d read the time correctly. _11:30_. Thorin - Eru damn it - Richard was running late. Lee tried not to be frustrated by this. _A hundred years was a mere blink in the life of an elf._ But he’d waited thousands upon thousands of years and he was no longer a patient person. It was lucky he didn’t have to wait much longer.

Richard was breathing heavily when he got there, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Lee shook his head, “It’s fine,” but he couldn’t take his eyes off the large bouquet in Richard’s hand, “What is that?”

Richard held it up with a grin, “Flowers,” then he saw Lee’s face and he frowned, “You’re not allergic?”

"This isn’t a date,” Lee said, “I thought that was clear.”

“Well it was worth a try,” Richard smirked, “At least take the flowers.”

Lee took them gingerly. He wasn’t sure what the flowers were called but they were pretty - like something he might have found in his kingdom all those years ago - but they smelt of fake perfume and they wilted slightly, probably having been jostled as Richard ran. It reminded him that this wasn’t real. That whatever friendship he hoped to have with Thorin wasn’t real. That Richard wasn’t real.

“I’ll…I’ll put them in a vase in the Café…” he excused himself, “and pick them up later.”

He didn’t wait for Richard to reply as he stepped inside. He ignored Chuck’s questioning look and went through the kitchen to the back, dumping the flowers in the bin. He leant against the wall for a moment trying to breathe normally as he thought desperately how he should proceed. He could apologise and cancel but Richard had come all the way to meet him. He sighed. One lunch. One lunch and then no more.

When he stepped out of the building Richard looked unsurely at him, “Sorry,” Lee said.

Richard shook his head, “No…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine.”

The awkward silence that issued managed to stay put throughout the entire walk to the pub. When they entered, though, and found a seat, it began to wain, and finally faded altogether. Lee felt like he could breathe again by the time they’d ordered: salad for himself - he’d tried meat over the thousands of years he’d been alive but salad still beat it by a mile - and a steak sandwich for Richard.

“So tell me,” Richard began, “Is there a reason you chose to work in the Pie Café?”

Lee shrugged, “I own it.”

Richard seemed surprised by this, “Oh. So you like baking?”

“It’s relaxing.”

“I can’t bake for the life of me,” Richard smiled, “I’m a pretty decent cook, though.” it looked for a moment as if he was going to continue but he changed his mind.

After a moment of silence Lee realised this was his turn to talk. _Eru_ , he was rusty. His conversations used to flow so easily, so gracefully. He hadn’t had to think about it once…but now…now he struggled to hold any sort of conversation. It probably had something to do with the fact that he didn’t go out of his way to talk to people…

“What do you do for a living?” he asked after a moment.

Richard shrugged, “Well, at the moment nothing. I just got back from Afghanistan about a month ago.”

Lee frowned, and had to hide his horror, “You’re a soldier?”

“Well ex-soldier,” Richard answered, “The army’s still looking after me but not for much longer, I suspect.”

He looked to the table, and for a moment was lost in deep thought. Lee watched him curiously. But then that gaze was back. It was as if Thorin was trapped inside, and in those small moments when he could rise to the surface all he had left to feel was regret and shame. Thranduil leant forward and placed a hand on Thorin’s. Thorin looked up and met his gaze.

Thranduil froze. In those ice-blue eyes all he saw was hate and confusion. He did not pull away or begin shouting but he stared as if he was waiting for something. Thranduil wanted to say sorry, he wanted to explain, wanted to assure him that he meant no harm but before he could say anything Thorin looked away and Richard returned. Thranduil dipped his head and pulled his hand away.

The waiter arrived and placed their meals before them and after a quiet second Richard looked up and laughed, “Sorry,” he said, embarrassedly, “I sometimes daze…Martin - my friend - always tells me off for it…Just hit me if I do it again.” Richard gave him a lopsided grin.

Lee tried to return the smile but it wavered and he gave up, and instead focused on skewering a piece of salad onto his fork.

“So?” Richard prompted, “Tell me about yourself.”

Lee shrugged, “Not much to tell you to be honest. I like baking, and I own a bakery.”

Richard laughed, “And that’s it? You must have other hobbies, family, friends?”

“Not really.”

Richard frowned, “What seriously? No one?”

“There’s a colleague at work that I talk to sometimes.”

“Shit. No family?” Richard frowned, then noticing Lee’s discomfort he tried to lighten the mood with a laugh, “I can’t imagine ever getting a moment of silence.”

“Big family?” Lee asked curiously, for a moment wondering how many of the dwarven company had been revived - was Martin one of these dwarves?

“Yeah,” Richard grinned, “You could say that. Point is, I never get a moment to myself. My sister is always asking that I take care of Fili and Kili and I love them to bits but I kind of need to get a job that isn’t babysitting,” he laughed again.

Lee smiled, “Those two really like you.”

He nodded, “Yeah, can’t imagine having one of my own, though. It’s nice to play around with them and take them to the park or zoo now and then but good god cleaning up after mealtime.” He laughed again, “It’s like a bloody bomb went off.”

“I know what you mean,” Lee replied, remembering Legolas’ younger years, when he was in his own little rebellion against knives and forks.

“Have you worked with children much?”

“Just my son,” he said, forgetting himself for a moment.

Richard paused in his eating and looked up, “You…said you didn’t have kids.”

Lee froze, “I, uh…I was…”

“Sorry,” Richard looked away nervously, “I didn’t mean…”

“No it’s…it’s okay,” he said, attempting to rectify the situation, “He isn’t dead or anything.”

Richard smiled apologetically, “So how old is he?”

“Uh, um…he’d be…” Lee stumbled. Legolas would be in his thousands but he could hardly say that. In the end he settled with, “Eighteen now.” That was safe, right? That worked well with how old he looked.

“Oh wow, so he’s just finishing his most trying years, then, huh?”

Lee looked down at his food, “…Yeah.”

“So do you see him much?”

Lee bit his lip, wishing he hadn’t slipped up and mentioned Legolas. He shook his head, “He’s in…America.”

“Oh,” Richard frowned, “That must be frustrating. Does he come over here much?” 

“No,” he replied.

“I bet you miss him a lot.” He sensed Lee’s discomfort once more and frowned, “Sorry, if you don’t want to talk about it then I understand.”

Lee frowned, “Sorry, it’s just…I haven’t seen him in…a long while. I can’t really…we don’t talk.”

“Shit,” Richard grimaced, “I’m sorry. That must be…” he placed a hand on Lee’s.

He froze, and hesitantly searched Richard’s eyes for Thorin and when he didn’t find him he smiled, “It’s fine,” he said, not moving his hand away.

Richard smiled, “You can always join me and the boys. We hang out every couple of weeks and play…well, football or sword fighting, depending on their mood.”

Lee smiled, “I’d like that,” then wondered if he should mention his love of sword fighting.

Richard noticed, “What?”

He looked away for a moment, “I’m actually fairly decent with a sword.”

“You’re kidding?” Richard looked surprised, “How the hell did you get into that?”

“My father was interested in…fencing. It was compulsory for me to learn.”

“You could show me and the kids some tricks, then,” Richard laughed, “Personally I prefer when we play football. Easier to know whose winning then,” he joked.

Lee bit his lip, “I have to admit I’ve never actually kicked a ball in my life.”

“What?” Richard looked offended, “We’re changing that. Keep yourself free this weekend and we’ll take the boys to the park.”

Lee laughed, “I’ll make a fool of myself.”

Richard smirked, “You can make a fool of yourself with the ball and then teach me a few things about sword play.”

Lee was just about to reply when Richard’s phone rang. The ring tone was offensively loud and Lee was partly ashamed at the fact he’d jumped.

_NAAAAANTS INGOOOONYA-MA BAGITHI BABA-_

Richard was wincing by the time he’d answered the phone, “Do you mind if I take this?”

Lee shook his head, “Of course not…I’ll go to the bathroom anyway,” he said, thinking it best to give Richard some privacy.

It was only as he was walking away that he suddenly realised what the man had said before. _‘You can make a fool of yourself with the ball and then teach me a few things about sword play.’_ He felt his cheeks warm. Had that been…had Richard just…??

In the bathroom he found himself staring at his reflection and wondering what the hell he was getting himself into. He’d just had lunch with Thorin Oakenshield. No…it had been lunch with Richard. Richard was the one who smiled at him, who laughed with him and wished to spend time with him. Lee groaned. Eru, what was he doing?

He rubbed his eyes furiously, seeing stars, “Eärendil, morning star,” he begged, “Tell me, please, what do I do? Gil-Estel give me hope.”

His vision cleared and he was met with his pleading reflection.

He liked Richard but how long would Richard last? There was no way he could spend time with Richard without aggravating the situation further. The more pleasant memories Thorin had of Richard and Lee, the more he was going to hate him. But he _really_ liked Richard.

“Eru give me strength.”

Lee splashed some water on his face and sighed one last time. It had already gone too far, he justified. Thorin was going to skin him alive. He should apologise to Richard and insist they go their separate ways. Thorin was happy- Richard was happy not remembering. Maybe this was what his second chance was all about. Lee didn’t have a right to ruin that.

He nodded to himself, finally sure of his course of action.

Unfortunately when he returned to their table he found that Richard had gone and a note had been left in his place upon the table:

_Got an urgent message. Family troubles. Sorry to run out on you. I’ll make it up to you.  
P.S Fi and Ki changed my ringtone. They really like the Lion King. Sorry._

“What in Eru’s name is the Lion King?” Lee muttered to himself, pocketing the note and pretending that he didn’t feel disappointed at Richard’s urgent departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richard is a complete dumbass jesuschrist. I did not write him like this on purpose, it just happened. Good god. Eru be damned. I planned on writing him to have a crush on Lee. I DID NOT plan on him turning into a bumbling, flirty teenager. It just happened. 
> 
> Their names change in that one paragraph because it's as if their old personalities are breaking through to the surface. I hope that was clear and the name changing wasn't annoying. /:
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mr Grey nodded in agreement, “If Azog is coming to London then it is a clear indicator that Smaug’s plans are moving along. We need to work quickly if we want to disrupt them.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This link might help you with connecting actor’s names to character’s faces: http://www.geektown.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/12-dwarves-hobbit.jpg

Richard left the note on the table and hurried out of the pub, holding his mobile phone in a vice-like grip, “Okay, what the hell happened, Martin?”

“When’s the last time you changed your phone?”

“Yesterday, and I didn’t have a chance to check the ringtone…” Richard rubbed a hand across his face, “It played the bloody opening sequence of the Lion King.”

Martin laughed, “Did it go off while you were on a date or something?” he’d meant it as a joke, but Richard’s silence seemed to perk his interest because Martin paused, “Oh, right…Did you-?”

“Martin,” Richard warned, “Back to important thing. Yes, I’ve changed my phone recently. It’s secure. Now tell me what the hell happened!”

“Right, right, sorry…” Martin let out a long sigh before answering, “Team 2 and 4 have been compromised.”

“What?!” Richard demanded, “How the fuck did that happen?”

“I must admit that…uh…well it was my fault about Team 2 but I’ve no clue about 4.”

“Have you talked with the other Teams?”

“Last I spoke with them was about…0200 for Team 2, 0400 for Team 1 and Team 3 contacted me 06…30…ish - do we really have to use military terms for the time of day? It’s doing my head in! It’s not like-“

“Martin!” Richard warned.

“Right, right, sorry,” Martin sighed, “Anyway, I told them to kill the lines and assume they’ve also been compromised.”

“Good.”

“There are other things I need to discuss with you, though,” Martin explained, “But I don’t feel comfortable talking over the phone…even if you think the line’s secure.”

“Fair enough.”

“My shop?”

“Be there in ten,” Richard hung up and gave a long sigh before hailing a taxi.

He felt nervous the entire drive to Martin’s shop. When he arrived Martin greeted him with a smile that wasn’t all-together convincing or encouraging.

“Stephen’s out the back making sandwiches. You know how he is in stressful situations,” Martin said, “He asked if you wanted anything.”

Richard shook his head, “Thanks but I’ve just had lunch.”

“Ah yes, lunch,” Martin nodded, with a knowing look in his eye, “How was it?”

“Oh yeah, it was really- _none of your bloody business_ ,” he quipped. 

Martin laughed, “Oh come now, we all have such boring lives. We need some excitement!” 

Richard snorted.

“Your love life is as exciting as it gets!” Martin pleaded.

“We already have enough excitement to last us a lifetime. So we _do not need_ to talk about my non-existent love life.”

“Non-existent?” Martin scoffed, “If anyone’s love-life is non-existent it’s mine,” his smile fell away and just like that the humour had left the air.

Richard placed a hand on Martin’s shoulder, “James will be alright.”

“Yeah,” Martin answered, though he didn’t sound sure of it, “None of us can help worrying, though, can we?” 

“No.”

“Adam is only just beginning to realise the dangers his brothers are facing and it’s not like Stephen wants to talk about any of it,” Martin said exasperatedly, “We’ve all been on the edge of our seats from day one. The only bloody relief we get is on a successful drop or a checkup! It’s infuriating.”

“I know,” Richard sighed, “It will all change soon, I promise.”

“As it surely will, Mr Durinson.”

Richard looked up to find Ian Grey watching him from the doorway. He gave him a nod in greeting, “Mr Grey.”

“We have much to discuss.”

Once they were seated at the table - Richard at the head, Martin and Stephen on his right, Mr Grey (he still couldn’t think of him as Ian) and Adam on his left - the discussion began.

“What’s our progress?”

Martin took a deep breath before clearing his throat and squinting as if trying to remember all the details - which was a likely possibility considering Mr Grey had forbid any paper-work that could potentially fall into the wrong hands.

“Team 1 in their monthly update said they think they’ve located Azog. They’re keeping their distance like you warned them to but they’ve said that if their leads are accurate then it looks like he’s trying to get into England.”

Richard grimaced, “That’s not good.”

Mr Grey nodded in agreement, “If Azog is coming to London then it is a clear indicator that Smaug’s plans are moving along. We need to work quickly if we want to disrupt them.”

“Which brings me to some good news!” Martin exclaimed, “Team 3 have managed to steal the uniform and key cards of several guards, and have located the blueprints of the Tower, which Adam has decoded for us.”

Adam looked up momentarily from his computer to shoot everyone a grin before going back to hiding behind the screen.

“Team 4 have managed to turn the Ferry Man and before they were compromised Team 2 managed to send me some information from our mole in the Underground. Adam is in the process of decoding it.”

Richard nodded, pleased with the news. The Ferry Man, which was the codename they’d given to the Foreign Secretary, was a fantastic asset; the best they could ask for. Yes he was flawed, he’d been under Smaug’s thumb from practically day one but that meant he had more to offer. He might betray them; that was always a possibility but could prepare for that.

As for the mole in the Underground (aka MI5) they were there merely to relay any information on Smaug’s illegal “activities” and warn them if Richard, and his company (as Mr Grey had taken to calling them) had been compromised or labeled a national threat. As of yet that wasn’t something they had to worry about. Yes, most of the company were fugitives, but not for anything like terrorism just yet. (Though, Smaug could easily have that changed). All they had to do was keep their missions low-key and go off the grid whenever they were caught in someone’s searchlight. Speaking of off the grid…

“How _was_ Team 2 compromised?” When no one spoke he tried again, “What happened?”

Mr Grey coughed, “All safeguards have been taken into account but that does not mean that there won’t be hiccups.”

“What hiccups?” he demanded.

Martin deflated, “I lost my phone.”

“You lost it?”

“On one of my pick ups. I’d just left the dry cleaners after swapping food for some info and I saw someone in the corner of my eye. I thought they might be tailing me. I took the normal precautions and-”

“Gave them a merry chase I hear,” Mr Grey supplied unhelpfully.

“-and somewhere along the line I dropped it. It must have fallen out of my pocket or…or they pick-pocketed me. I don’t know…It wasn’t until three hours later that I realised and…”

“And?” Richard prompted, feeling like he was pulling teeth.

“And James had already answered the phone before I managed to get in contact with him again.”

Richard sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

“He realised something was up almost immediately.” Martin added, hurriedly, “The phones can’t be tracked so there’s nothing the person on the other end could have gained. As soon as James got my call confirming it wasn’t me he went under. I haven’t heard from him since.”

Finally Richard nodded, realising how distraught Martin was, “Any of us could have made that mistake,” he reassured, “It’s unlikely that they got anything from that call, as you said, but it was smart to tell them to get off the grid.”

Martin nodded, “So what’s the plan now?”

“We need a place of residence,” Mr Grey declared, “Safe, close by, with easy access to Smaug’s tower and room for your equipment.”

“I agree.”

“What about the building opposite?” Martin asked.

Richard shook his head, “Owned by Smaug. What about the hotel next door? Would a room there be big enough?”

“Not very secure, and it’s expensive,” Martin explained, “There’s no easy access and none of the windows are facing the Tower either.”

“No, the hotel is perfect,” Adam observed, “The top levels are under renovation which…” he looked at his computer for a moment, “which are to start next month. There’s a lift that goes from the carpark to the top. Special security access - which I could hack. There’s easy roof access - good for snipers, and only…seven metres tops from one roof to the next.” 

Richard was grinning by the time Adam had finished, “Brilliant, Adam!”

Adam smirked, “Does this mean I get a code name too?” he asked hopefully, laughing.

Richard shook his head, amused, the cheeky bastard.

“What about Ori?” Mr Grey asked.

Adam smiled.

“Dori, Nori, Ori,” Richard muttered to himself, “I like it.”

“Now we just need to set up and find a day to act,” Martin said, “Smaug has a meeting across London this Friday.”

“Too soon. I need at least a week for prep,” Richard explained.

“He’s going into the country for a couple of days next week…” Martin laughed after a moment, “To the Ferry Man’s estate.”

“Perfect. Adam- I mean Ori,” he smiled, “Code the message, send to each team after they’re back on comms. Tell them to stand by for further instructions.”

Adam nodded, “Got it.”

“What about the Ferry Man?”

“Until the day of the strike we leave him in the dark,” Richard explained, “I don’t want him changing his mind beforehand and warning Smaug. We’ll give him the bear minimum details and have him contact us only when Smaug arrives and leaves.”

“Agreed,” Mr Grey nodded.   
“How are we going to get the gear up there?”

Adam grinned again, and everyone turned to him, “I was thinking you could pose as renovation delivery people…or something…The front office and staff would expect that sort of thing. If you’re carrying a clipboard and looking busy enough no one will stop you. I’ve seen it in the movies and-”

_NAAAAANTS INGOOOONYA-MA BAGITHI BABA…_

Adam paused, looking confused, until Richard had sighed and dug out his phone. Adam had to hide his grin behind a hand, as he tried and failed not to laugh.

Richard looked at the phone and saw that it was his sister calling. “Excuse me,” he apologised, “I’ll be a moment. Keep discussing.”

When he was in the hallway he answered the call, “Dis, are you alright?”

“Where the hell have you been?”

Richard froze, and felt an ice-cold chill run up his spine, “Shit,” he ran a hand across his face, “The teacher-parent meeting?”

“You said you’d take the boys so I could work late,” Dis exclaimed, “Instead I get a call from Miss Margaret berating me for not turning up.”

“Dis I’m sorry, I forgot-”

“The boys tried walking home by themselves! If Edna from next door hadn’t seen them-”

“Shit,” he felt sick to his stomach, “Fuck. I’m so sorry Dis. It won’t happen again I was busy, I-“

“You have no excuse!” exclaimed Dis, “You have no job, you’re a bloody recluse with no commitments. Family is all that matters, you said so yourself. All I ask of you is a little help with the boys and-”

“It won’t happen again!” he insisted.

“No, it won’t, Richard,” Dis agreed, aggressively, “I think it’s best if you don’t see the boys for a while.”

Richard’s heart sunk, “Dis, please-”

“I don’t know what you’ve been saying to the boys or what you’ve been letting them watch but ever since you got back and started looking after them they’ve been having violent nightmares and panic attacks. The other day you brought them back from a school fight! They never get into fights.”

“They weren’t the ones who started it-”

“I don’t care, Richard!” Dis interrupted, “Whatever it is you’re doing. It’s a bad influence. Whatever happened to you over there, I understand…it was hard. But you _cannot_ bring it into my home. Take some time to work yourself out. Get a job, make friends. When you’re better we’ll discuss whether or not you see my boys.”

“Dis…” he leant against the door frame, feeling as if his knees might give way, “I’m sorry. Can we please just discuss this?”

“I’m too mad at the moment, Richard,” Dis said, her voice softening, “I’ll call you later.”   
“Dis?”.

But it was too late. She’d already hung up on him. _Shit._ This was his fault. He’d fucked up again. _Shit, shit, shit._ If anything had happened to those boys? He smacked his palm against the wall in anger.

“FUCK!”

“You know there _is_ a kid in here right?” Martin asked, amused.

He didn’t answer him.

“Richard?” Martin asked, suddenly concerned. He wandered over, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Are you alright?”   
Richard shoved his hand off, “I’m fine!” he snapped, “I’ve got to go.”

Martin nodded, “Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll finish up here and tell you what we came up with later.”

He nodded in response, grabbing his jacket and walking out the door. He barely heard Martin’s, “I’ll call you!” before he’d stepped onto the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explaining names…hmm…Basically the dwarvish names are the names they used in the army, like code names basically…and their team made them up (or rather remembered them, I guess) so no one else knows these names. And even if bad guys hear them they don’t know which name relates to which person. So Martin (human!Bilbo) isn’t on the run because he wasn’t in the army team, Stephen (human!Bombur) was the cook at base so he never got incriminated, Adam (human!Ori) was too young to be on the mission, and Richard wasn’t part of that exact mission. So all four of them go by their “real” names. The others, who are on the run, go by their code names so that they can stay hidden. But more will be explained later.
> 
> And incase you missed this at the start - this link can help with connecting actor’s names to character’s faces: http://www.geektown.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/12-dwarves-hobbit.jpg
> 
> Please leave a comment! Thanks!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He was lucky he hadn’t ended up unconscious on the side of the street. He blinked in confusion. How had he got home by himself? He didn’t remember. Had he got a taxi? He looked about the room and realised he didn’t recognise it. He wasn’t at home. Shit. Had he gone home with someone?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah sorry about the swearing

Richard woke with a pounding headache. He sat up and kneaded his forehead, willing it to go away. He remembered snippets from the previous night, pubs, alcohol, arguments, almost ending up in several fights. He was lucky he hadn’t ended up unconscious on the side of the street. He blinked in confusion. How had he got home by himself? He didn’t remember. Had he got a taxi? He looked about the room and realised he didn’t recognise it. He wasn’t at home. Shit. Had he gone home with someone? Had he slept with someone? He rose to his feet shakily, and checked himself. He was still wearing most of his clothes. He saw his jacket lying on a chair in the corner of the room, and when he checked the pockets he found his keys and wallet, and all his cards and cash were in order. At least no one had stollen anything from him.

The clatter of dishes and the hiss of a kettle drew his attention. There was no chance he could sneak out of the apartment now. He had to face the music so to speak. He checked himself in the mirror, hoping he hadn’t looked like too much of a mess the night before. If he’d had sex with someone he hoped they’d used protection…good god would he even been able to perform in that state? The fact he couldn’t remember anything was worrying. His reflection grimaced as he tried to flatten the cowlick his hair had formed into. Bed hair could be attractive sometimes…but not this morning, apparently. He blinked, and pulled at his eyes, willing them to open. When there was little more he could do to improve his appearance he sighed and crept out of the room. 

He wanted to get a good look at the person before they realised he was awake. He peered around the corner and to his surprise he saw a terrifyingly familiar man with blond hair and blue eyes. He was standing at the kitchen table, spreading jam over scones. Richard’s heart began beating rapidly in his anxiety. He was in Lee’s apartment! Holy god in heaven he wished he remembered the night before. What had he done? What had he said? He hoped he hadn’t had nightmares. He didn’t remember any but that didn’t mean a thing.

Lee looked up and caught his gaze, “Good morning.”

Richard coughed and stepped out from his hiding place, “Morning,” he greeted, biting his lip and trying not to look awkward.

“I hope you’re not feeling too horrible this morning.”

Richard crept toward the table hesitantly, finding a large plate of scones, and several different coloured jams scattered across the table. He wondered if Lee had made the scones himself. They smelt fresh and he thought he could feel their warmth even from where he stood.

“I didn’t know what you’d feel like this morning but I always tend to have toast or scones so…” he gestured to the table.

Richard sat down, and remained silent. Lee took a seat opposite him, seemingly comfortable with the silence. Richard took a scone and knife and began spreading some yellow jam - he assumed it was marmalade as there weren’t any labels on the jars.

“Ah…Lee?” he began, wondering how else to make this any less awkward, “I don’t mean to offend…”

Lee looked up from what he was doing to watch him curiously.

“We didn’t…” he cleared his throat, “We didn’t sleep together did we?”

Lee’s eyes widened, “No!” he exclaimed, too loudly and too hurriedly not to have been either appalled or terrified at the prospect, “No…no…I slept on the couch,” he assured. “You don’t remember how you got here?”

Richard watched as a blush crept upon Lee’s pale cheeks. He thanked the lord that he wasn’t so inclined to blushing. He shook his head, and tried to focus on his scone to escape whatever look Lee might have given him in response.

“You were…quite…intoxicated,” Lee explained, “I saw you on the street alone and thought it best to take you home. But…” He trailed off and Richard looked up to see the man bite his lip. Then he squinted as if apologetic and continued, “You couldn’t really remember where you lived…so I, I’m sorry, I thought it was best to take you back to mine.” He picked up another scone and began slicing it in half, before hurriedly adding, “We didn’t do anything! I got you inside and took off your jacket and put you to bed.”

Richard grimaced, “I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s fine,” Lee shook his head, “I wouldn’t want you to get mugged or run over or anything.”

Richard shook his head, angry at Lee’s sympathetic response, “It was stupid of me to be out like that,” he responded, “What you did was really sweet. I really appreciate it but…” he sighed, “Next time just leave me. I should know better than to get pissed like that.”

“I’m not going to leave you to wander the street drunk and alone, Richard.”

Richard stood, “I don’t need your pity!”

Lee scoffed, and watched him with a frown, “It’s not pity, you idiot,” he replied, “I was worried. I did what any descent person should do. I don’t tend to pity people.”

Richard watched him for a moment, “I’m sorry,” he sat down, “I’m not used…to…” he gestured to the food, to Lee, to the apartment, unsure what he was saying: to what? Friendship, kindness…It wasn’t exactly true.

They ate in silence after that. Lee made Richard some tea and put away the dishes and then he sat down again and watched Richard carefully.

“You were upset last night,” he said, eventually, “You said everything was going wrong."

Richard gave a sigh, “Nothing has ever really gone right.”

Lee smiled, sadly, “I can drink to that.”

“It was what I was drinking to last night,” he replied, “And I’m afraid that’s not an uncommon state to find me in.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think you, actually, want to hear it.”

“I do,” Lee told him, “As long as you don’t mind telling me.”

He watched him, and searched his face for an ulterior motive, for deception or dislike but all he found was general concern and curiosity. He readjusted himself in his seat and gave a nod. He could at least tell Lee some of it.

“I was in the army, special ops,” he began, “As you know.”

Lee nodded.

“I lead a team on a ton of missions. During one of our first we were stationed in a tunnel system that had been built purely for recognisant missions. Shit went and hit the fan and the enemy discovered the cave-system. They called us the tunnelling dwarves,” he laughed, trying to keep the tone light but then he saw Lee’s confusion and he shrugged, “It was meant to be derogatory,” he explained, “But we kept the name. We had a lot of successful missions…” He paused for a moment and bit his lip, “But I began to question my orders and I started looking into things I shouldn’t have.”

“What did you find?”

He shrugged, “Things that you’d get killed for knowing, and I almost was. Someone on our side was working for the enemy, and from what I suspect always has been. When I’d discovered…well I shouldn’t have let my team go on that mission. Of course, though, it was me who was captured…” he grimaced, remembering bloodied wrists, the dark whispering to him, the monsters and dragons within ready to rip him open and make him scream.

“Richard?”

“I was there for a…while,” he continued, “My team, loyal to the end, disregarded all orders and found me. We were all deported afterwards, me with ‘unfit for duty’ and them with ‘dishonourable discharge’,” he laughed cynically, “Of course that wasn’t why we were really deported…and we soon learned that. Once we got back to England things got complicated. There were allegations that my team had been dirty, that they’d been passing information to the enemy…” he grimaced, “Long story short they resisted arrest and are now…well it’s illegal for me to contact or aid any of them.”

“And you weren’t arrested?” Lee asked.

“No,” he sighed, “It was my punishment. I’d have to sit back and watch as my team mates were taken down for my curiosity and stupidity.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

He grimaced at Lee’s response. “How is that _not_ my fault? I snooped around where I shouldn’t have and as a result my whole bloody team are fugitives.” he replied, sternly, “I was their leader and I fucked up! I should have taken the full blame.” 

Of course it was his fault. Even if he hadn’t made the mistake he would have taken the blame because a leader leads. He was their leader! A leader didn’t have the luxury to make mistakes because when they did everyone suffered for it. He crossed his arms, and looked away, unable to meet Lee’s gaze.

“Richard?”

“I don’t sleep, I can’t get a job…and now my fucking problems are even preventing me from seeing my nephews. But it’s not punishment enough!” He sat forwards, feeling a sudden need to make Lee understand, “They? They shouldn’t be on the run for _my_ mistakes! I should be out there with them at the very least.”

“I’m sorry,” Lee said, “You shouldn’t have to-”

“Stop!” Richard begged, “Please.” He clenched his jaw, “Stop…saying that.” 

Lee stared, and Richard knew what he must sound like, what he must look like…a deranged ex-soldier with nothing better to do than complain and wallow in self-pity. Well, from what he’d been through he had a fucking right. If he wanted to shout, why the hell couldn’t he? His skin was crawling. He could feel the ‘fight or flee’ jitters in his stomach. He felt as if he needed to escape from his own skin. He tried to calm his nerves with a sip from his teacup but it was just wrong. It was so hilariously, stupidly wrong. The thing offended him. Smooth, perfect, decorated with flowers, uselessly pretty in a world so fucking horrible and broken. He dropped it, barely hearing the clatter it made on the table. Its contents spilled out across the white cloth like blood staining clothes…

“Richard, you need to calm down. Breathe.”

Orders. More orders. Always orders, never answers. He couldn’t breathe.

“Th-thank you…for the tea,” he grabbed his jacket, his vision gone, his mind blank, all he could smell was the ash, the fire, feel rope around his wrists, sneers in his ears.

He was out on the street before he knew it, clutching his phone in a shaking hand and scrolling through his contacts, desperately searching for Martin’s phone number. He needed to talk to someone who understood, who knew that there was no transition from soldier to civilian, from killer to victim. He needed to keep his family safe and at whatever cost. Dis would eventually understand, Fili and Kili would understand. He would find Smaug, and he would gut the fucker and then everything would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment! Thank you, friends.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
> “I shouldn’t have shouted like that. I wanted to make it up to you…with…” he paused, as if unsure if he should continue, “With lunch, if you’re interested?”_
> 
> _Lee smiled, “It’s not a date?”_
> 
> _There was a laugh on the other end, “It’s not a date.”_
> 
> _“Alright then.”  
> _

Lee didn’t go to work that day. He was still shaken up by Richard’s outburst. He recognised a panic attack when he saw one; He’d had his fair share after all. But to see Richard in such a state…it was painful, more painful than he could have imagined. He wondered if Thorin had felt that way. If Thorin had ever lapsed into unbridled, panicking, fury; experienced flashbacks and shoved away his friends and family in a desperate attempt to breathe.

Thranduil had.

He’d woken to the sound of Richard’s screams, and he could still hear them in his head. The soul-wrenching sound of a man being tortured. He had, at first, thought someone was dying. Instead it was Richard, tossing, and turning, fearful, feet tangled in sheets, tears staining the pillow. Lee had sat with him, held him down when the scratching began. He’d been fearful to wake him. Fearful of those blue eyes and who might be looking out from them behind them.

He’d tried to remain calm during breakfast. It had lasted barely a moment, though. He had thought Thorin was happy in this new life. It turned out he wasn’t. No one deserved to live through an unhappy life twice, one was quite enough. Whatever Eru had planned for Thorin in this new life it was cruel and wrong and Lee almost wished he’d stayed dead.

Almost.

But Thorin wasn’t dead; He was quite alive, and this new persona, Richard, was suffering. It hurt him to see Richard like that. He wanted to help. No, he didn’t just want to help, he was determined to do so. It didn’t matter whether he was making up for past mistakes or not. Richard deserved to be happy. People deserved to be happy, Eru be damned. 

So, when Richard called Lee a week later, he answered.

“Richard,” he greeted, as soon as he picked up the phone.

“Did…I’m…I’m sorry about that night. I should have been on my knees thanking you…not…”

“Richard, please-”

“No, no let me just, please,” Richard said, hurriedly, probably misinterpreting Lee’s words, “I shouldn’t have shouted like that. I wanted to make it up to you…with…” he paused, as if unsure if he should continue, “With lunch, if you’re interested?”

Lee smiled, “It’s not a date?”

There was a laugh on the other end, “It’s not a date.”

“Alright then.”

 

They met at a bar close to Lee’s apartment. Richard was early this time, and Lee watched him from the doorway for a moment, seeing the man’s anxiety in his wringing hands and bouncing leg. Then he walked towards the table and smiled at Richard who looked up and gave an apologetic smile. After a moment of silence, spent searching their menus and trying to avoid eye contact, Richard sighed.

“This is becoming a regular occurrence for us…” he said, “Me buying you lunch in way of apology.” 

Lee smiled but didn’t look up from his menu, “Don’t think I’m letting you pay this time.”

Richard laughed but then he took Lee’s menu and pushed it out of the way to catch Lee’s gaze, his face somber, “I’m one of those people who doesn’t learn from their mistakes unless you say something…so if I do something wrong…or if I’m ever too much trouble, just tell me, okay?”

Lee gave a small, reassuring smile, “You haven’t done anything wrong yet.”

Richard scoffed, “I beg to differ.”

After lunch they went for a walk. Richard talked about his love of handmade jewellery, and Lee believed he managed to seem surprised. Then Richard talked of mining exploits and his interest in opening up a jewellery shop if he had the money, and if anyone was actually interested in that sort of thing anymore.

“It depends on how nice the jewellery is,” Lee replied.

“I’ll show you the sort of things I’ve made some time…if you want.”

Lee smiled, “Of course,” he said, trying not to think about how close their hands were, knuckles brushing now and then as they walked, arms bumping when they weren’t paying attention. 

Richard lead the way and Lee followed.

“I am truly sorry about the other night.”

“Don’t be,” Lee answered, sincerely, “It’s what I’m here for.” 

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that,” there was a hint of anger in Richard’s tone.

“You wouldn’t agree,” Lee replied, before he could help himself, “If you knew what I’d done…” he trailed off, regretting letting the conversation take the turn it had.

He should have just pretended again. He should have lied, said it was fine, said these things happened and that he was there for him because that’s what friends did…not for an alternative reason, not to torture himself. He was there for Richard. Not to manipulate him or use him to his own ends but because he cared.

“What could you have done that was so bad you’re willing to put up with me?” Richard demanded.

“You think you deserve…the nightmares…the anxiety?”

“Yes, and there’s a reason for that.”

“Are you saying your problems are more important than mine?” Lee asked him, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“No! Course not!” Richard said, sounding offended.

But then he looked up and saw that Lee was smiling and he shook his head, trying to hide his own smile. The humour didn’t last long and the solemn tone was back.

“What happened?”

They crossed to the middle of the highway, and waited for a clearing in the traffic. The rushing of cars on either side of them made Lee feel trapped. 

“I betrayed a friend,” the words were ripped from his mouth and carried away on the wind. 

Richard heard them nonetheless, “They’ll forgive you.”

“They won’t,” Lee replied as crossed to the other side of the street.

They were standing at the entrance of a park, and Lee realised, vaguely, that he didn’t recognise this part of the city. He hadn’t known how long they’d walked but Richard had seemed to have a destination in mind.

“How do you know?”

“Because they won’t,” Lee replied swiftly, “Because I ruined everything.”

“And? You made a mistake, so what?” Richard growled, “You are one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met. What did you do that was so bad you deserve my crap?”

He tried not to think about who he was talking to but those blue eyes were too hard to look at, “I turned my back on a family friend,” he told Richard, almost wishing Richard would remember who he was. Lee needed Thorin back, needed him to shout at him, to hit him, “And it wasn’t just something trivial. It was a life or death situation and I left. Their family suffered for it; they suffered for it.”

He looked up and found that Richard was still there, but the anger was gone, “I’ve killed people, barely adults,” he answered, “I’ve watched men break down in the middle of battle and put a bullet to their own head.”

He wanted to say that he had to, that he had killed fifty, hundred, a thousand times more than Richard could ever imagine; that he’d seen young men skewer themselves on their own blades - on purpose _and_ by accident…but he didn’t. Enough, was enough. The canopy of trees above them, a green so refreshingly different from all the city’s grey, reminded him of a home he’d once known. There was good in the past as well as evil, he knew that, he remembered that.

In a moment of uncharacteristic confidence he took Richard’s hand, “We must learn from the past and not make the same mistakes,” he said, sternly.

Richard sighed and looked away, nodding as if reluctantly, “Khuzd tada ma ublûri zuzna,” he replied, “Ma furukhî sakh ghelekh.”

Lee stiffened, recognising that tongue. He wondered if this was it? If this was the moment Thorin would remember. He held his breath but nothing happened. Richard didn’t pull away from him, he didn’t shout…then he noticed Richard had gone rigid as well, as if he, himself, had recognised his words and hoped Lee had not.

Lee frowned and felt his heart skip a beat. Was this Thorin? Had Thorin been there from the start? He licked his lips, wondering what he should say, and then settled for a quiet, “Pardon?”

Richard visibly swallowed, “Something I heard in war,” he replied.

Lee didn’t doubt it. 

“It means if you can’t endure the bad,” Richard shrugged, “You won’t see the good.”

“Sounds like words of wisdom to me,” Lee replied, absentmindedly.

Richard nodded, and they began walking once more. They entered the park, together, having forgotten that their hands were still interlocked.

“The person you say you betrayed…Did they mean a lot to you?” Richard asked.

Lee thought about his answer carefully. If this was Thorin he was talking to he wondered what his reaction might be to hear the truth. In the end he decided it didn’t matter because it was better for him to say the truth anyway.

“I never really thought about it,” he replied, “I guess I didn’t get the chance to find out.”

“And you regret that?”

They sat on a park bench. Lee could feel the earth below his feet move and wondered what the place had once been. The garden beds in the park were overflowing onto the neatly-pruned grass, as if the flowers and ferns were fighting for dominance over the boring green carpet. He recognised the plants by each of their names: modern english, middle westron, and elvish.

Lee sighed, “Everyday.”

Richard leant his head on Lee’s shoulder, but the nervousness the action should have awakened in him did not have time to take hold. Instead, Lee was transfixed by their surroundings. They were encompassed in a soft tingling light that his limbs recognised, and his heart had long yearned for. He knew where they were before Richard opened his mouth.

“The park’s name is Greenwood Park,” Richard’s breath was warm, and his beard soft, against Lee’s neck, “I wondered if there was any relation to your name.”

“You have no idea,” he replied.

Though, he wondered if he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how long ‘it’s not a date’ will work before they realise they’re dating...Oh...but are they dating?? :P I really hope you liked this chapter. I thought it was a cute change from all the doom and gloom.
> 
> Okay, I have a quick announcement. I'm heading towards the due dates for some major assignments (and then I have exams eek) so my updates won't be as frequent in the next couple of weeks but do not fret! I don't abandon fics! So hang in there. I'll work on the fic as much as possible! And to dampen the blow: I have a little surprise planned for you all that should be finished by Chapter 11.
> 
> Please leave a comment! Thank you for reading, friends.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lee offered his hand to Mithrandir, “Lee Greenwood,” he greeted, daring the man to say otherwise._
> 
> _Mithrandir gave a small, knowing smile, “Mr Greenwood, how very good to meet you. I’m Mr Grey, a friend of Richard’s, also his ex-psychiatrist.”_

Lee owned several businesses. He hadn’t planned to. He didn’t need the money. But over the years he’d become bored with one and moved on to another. They kept him busy, comfortable and sometimes they supplied a little bit of a distraction. The distraction today was a welcome one. He had planned on making a visit to oversee the renovation drawings for his hotel and go over the drawings with the architect and builders.

When he arrived in the lobby he was met with a disgruntled manager, “Sir, we know you always like to hear about these things before we do anything about them so we haven’t called the police just yet but-”

“What happened?” he asked, not in the least bit upset.

“When I was organising the top floor for your meeting I discovered a man had been living there.”

Lee frowned, “For how long?”

“We have no idea, sir. The room is filled with his things,” the manager gestured down the hall, “We put him in the staff room. Would you like us to call the police now?”

Lee shook his head, “No, I’ll deal with it,” he answered, “Tell the architect and builder I’ll be with them in a moment.”

The manager nodded, “Of course.”

Lee walked toward the staff room, passing several nosy staff members who all hurriedly went back to work when they recognised him. He wondering how the man had managed to live on their top floor without the staff noticing. He almost found it amusing, if not a little sad.

“I’m sorry about the wait,” he said as he entered the room.

However, when he looked up he was caught by surprise. It was Richard who sat at the table. Richard looked up and stared at him in confusion. He gave Lee a once over, taking in his suit, his briefcase and then Lee watched as the realisation hit him.

“Shit,” Richard winced, “You’re the owner?” he ran a hand across his face in embarrassment.

Lee recovered from his surprise quickly, and sat down, “Lucky for you, I am,” he replied.

“So you’re not going to call the police then?” he asked.

“Course not,” Lee answered, “You really think I’m going to have the police drag away a harmless squatter?”

“I’m not a squatter. I have a flat.”

“Then why are you here?”

Richard bit his lip and looked around the room for cameras, “Could we talk somewhere else?”

Lee nodded, “Sure, where would you prefer?”

“The top floor is clean of cameras and bugs-” Richard froze, looking guilty, “I mean…”

Lee frowned in confusion but nodded, “We’ll go there then. I just have to discuss some things with the architect and builder.”

Once he was done they headed to the lift. Lee took out his key to unlock the button of the top floor and then he stopped and realised that Richard couldn’t have sneaked up there without his key. He turned to Richard who winced apologetically once again. He rustled around in his pocket before producing a key identical to Lee’s.

“Sorry,” he said, before unlocking the button, himself, and pressing it.

They stood in silence as the elevator took them to the top floor. Lee wondered what Richard was involved in, and if it had anything to do with his team being on the run. When they stepped out of the lift Lee looked about the unfurnished floor, taking note of the tables, chairs, crates of equipment, computers, and mattresses across the room. He scoffed. This wasn’t the home of a squatter.

“What’s going on Richard?”

“I’m so sorry, Lee. I would have asked you if I’d known you owned the building. I can have…everything moved out if you’d like.”

Lee crossed his arms, “It depends what you’re here for,” he answered.

They both took a seat and Richard began to explain, “You remember I told you about my team?”

Lee nodded.

“Well I have been in contact with them. I help them when I can. I keep them out of trouble, and in the mean time I’ve been trying to prove their innocence.”

“And how does this help?”

“The man whose done this to them, who has his fingers in all the pies, the military, the government, the economy, has his office in that building,” Richard pointed out the window to the skyscraper opposite his hotel.

Lee frowned, “And you’re here to break into his office?”

Richard winced and then nodded, “Yeah,” he said before shrugging, “We were going to book a room here but we don’t have the money and this floor was perfect. We were going to be in and then out, the owner- _you_ weren’t supposed to know we’d ever been here.”

“What do you think you’re going to find from this man’s office?”

Richard shrugged, “Well, I’m not quite sure. The idea was my psychiatrists-”

Lee frowned, “What?”

Richard laughed, “I know, best therapy I’ve ever had, I can tell you.” He then looked down at the table and began playing at an indent in the wood, “I need to fix things, Lee, and this is the only way I’m going to be able to do that. If I can find some document, some…” he sighed in frustration, “Just something to prove that this guy is guilty and that my team, my friends…my family, are not…bad people.”

Lee nodded. That was it then. Maybe this was why Thorin had returned. It was like the Quest for Erebor all over again, though, remarkably different in some aspects. Thorin was here to get back what had been stolen from him and his family. Perhaps, this was a second chance. Perhaps, this was not only Thorin’s second chance…but his as well.

“You can use the floor.”

“What?” Richard stared, “Really?”

“Yes, I can delay the renovations,” Lee answered “It doesn’t make any difference to me. I’ll tell my staff this was a miscommunication. That you’re setting up a new internet system or something…or there’s going to be a party up here. I don’t know, I’ll think of something,” he shrugged, “But I’ll make sure the staff don’t bother you.”

Richard, smiled at him, his eyes glassy. Then he reached across the table and took a hold of Lee’s hand, “Thank you,” he said, sincerely, “This…this means a lot to me.”

“I-it’s fine," Lee looked away, “Really.”

“It’s not fine. It’s fucking brilliant,” Richard laughed, “You know, with us using your building…if you want, if you can keep a secret…” he let go of Lee’s hand to shrug, “If you want to help…”

“Of course,” Lee replied, “Anything I can do.”

“We were hoping to meet up tonight. Are you free?”

“Yes,” Lee replied, perhaps little too eagerly.

“6:30?” Richard asked.

Lee found himself smiling at the man, “Sounds fine,” he said, before realising what he’d just agreed to.

Later that day he began to regret his answer. Richard had said it was his ‘team’, his friends, his family that he was meeting with…That could only mean one thing. Lee wondered if it would be rude to decline the invitation at the last minute but then he remembered Richard’s grin and his grateful gaze, and he decided that he’d go, if only to say hello.

He’d arrived early, hoping that he would be the first there. Richard met him with a smile and pulled him into a hug he hadn’t expected. He then took the pies from him and Lee was being swept into the room by several other men all of whom he vaguely recognised. It turned out that he was one of the last to arrive. Eru be damned.

Richard disappeared into the crowd, leaving Lee terrified and alone. Several of the dwarves talked with him, though they gave up when they realised how bad his people skills were. However, they made no indication that they found him rude, which Lee was unbelievably grateful for. A couple of hours later when no one had recognised him, and he’d managed to converse with someone - a young man, by the name of Adam (Ori, in his past life, he believed) - for at least five minutes, he let his guard down and tried to relax. He thought he might just survive the night after all.

Then he heard a familiar, booming voice, and really he should have expected this. He caught a glimpse of grey hair, and a grey suit before he turned his back and begged Eru to allow him to go unnoticed by the newly arrived wizard. Though, in all likelihood, Mithrandir would, inevitably recognise him.

The young man he’d been talking to suddenly ran towards the wizard, “Mr Grey!” he chirped in excitement, “Have you met the owner of the hotel? He’s letting us stay here.”

Lee found himself frozen to the spot. If he ran now then someone was going to start asking questions. He was cornered. He sighed, squared his shoulders and turned to meet Mithrandir.

The wizard met his gaze and frowned.

“Thranduil?”

Adam frowned, “Pardon?”

Lee offered his hand to Mithrandir, “Lee Greenwood,” he greeted, daring the man to say otherwise.

Mithrandir gave a small, knowing smile, “Mr Greenwood, how very good to meet you. I’m Mr Grey, a friend of Richard’s, also his ex-psychiatrist.”

Lee laughed coldly, “Of course,” he pulled his hand from the wizard’s grip, “You’re the psychiatrist.”

The poor boy, Adam, was left ignorant to the situation, fearfully looking between the two men and wondering if he’d just reunited two enemies. His suspicions wouldn’t have been completely wrong.

“I don’t know if you’ve been up here before,” Lee said, suggestively, “But the view is quite spectacular at night.”

“I’m sure it is,” Mithrandir replied, catching on, “Can you see all of London from here?”

They walked away from the crowd and once they were alone Mithrandir looked him up and down, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Lee didn’t reply.

“You seem different.”

Lee gave the rest of the room a quick glance, fearful that someone might have heard Mithrandir call him by his real name but everyone seemed too preoccupied in their jovial conversation.

“That would probably be the lack of pointed ears and long hair,” he replied.

“No it’s something else,” Mithrandir frowned, “It’s not in your physical appearance. Your spirit has changed.”

He rolled his eyes, “Enough of your riddles, Mithrandir, I am not in the mood. When I let Thorin bring his team to my hotel I did not think he meant _‘The Company’_. I was not prepared for this.”

“So you recognised Thorin?” Mithrandir asked, “But he did not recognise you.” 

“I’m not sure,” Lee answered, “Does he…know who he is?”

Mithrandir shook his head, “No, he does not.”

Lee gritted his teeth. So much for the idea that Thorin might have forgiven him, “Then no he didn’t recognise me.”

“When did you meet him?”

“You mean this time around?” Lee asked, sarcastically, “He brought his nephews into my cafe.” 

Lee almost missed the minute, smile that flashed across Mithrandir’s face but he caught it just in-time. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if the old wizard had something to do with Richard running into him. He’d have asked but in the end would it really have mattered?

“Do many of the others remember?”

“A few,” the wizard answered, “None have recognised you….yet.”

Lee raised an eyebrow, and looked out to the room, trying to gage which dwarves remembered but they all looked the same, all laughing and talking.

“How is this even possible, Mithrandir?”

“Why did you not go to the Undying Lands?” the wizard deflected.

Lee shook his head. He was never going to get a straight answer out of the damned wizard, “I had unfinished business in Middle Earth.”

“What sort of business?”

“It's none of your concern.”

“It is my concern,” Mithrandir said sternly, “If it concerns this company.”

“You think I’m here to cause ill-will towards the dwarves?” he asked, searching Mithrandir’s face for a sign of distrust. Instead, he only saw slight confusion. Lee frowned, “Wait,” he realised, “You think I have something to do with their return?” he asked, “You don’t even know how this happened…” he gave a laugh, “I thought of all those in Middle Earth a Maiar would know."

Mithrandir huffed in annoyance, “And what about Thranduil Greenwood, King of the Woodland Realm, King of Mirkwood? Has he abandoned his post?”

“That’s not my name,” Lee growled, “And you know full well that I did not abandon anything. Haven’t you heard?” He asked, “Mankind rules the Earth now.”

Mithrandir ignored his latter statement, “It is your name,” he said, “Just because you go by another now does not mean you can suddenly disown who you were, who you are. Every person you have been and will be is a part of who you are. Just as I am both Mithrandir and Gandalf, as well as Ian Grey.”

Lee felt weak. This conversation was doing nothing for his head or his nerves. He didn’t need an old wizard with a weed-addled brain to tell him who he was or wasn’t. “The time of wizards and elves is gone, Mithrandir,” he responded sternly. A dizzying wave came over him and he had to concentrate to breathe slowly and deeply. He felt as if he was suffocating. “And half of me is gone with it,” he admitted. 

“I can see that,” there was confounding concern in the wizard’s voice, “You’re half the elf you were, and now more a man.”

Lee raised an eyebrow, “Is that meant to be an insult?”

“For some it might have been. For you, it’s a great improvement to your character,” the wizard paused and looked down, “I cannot say the same for the rest of you.”

It took a moment before Lee realised the wizard was staring at his hands. He looked down, too, and found that he was wringing them, and that they were shaking uncontrollably. He hadn’t noticed. He crossed his arms.

“When was the last time you spoke to someone of Middle Earth?” Mithrandir asked him, “Someone of the Old Country?”

“We are still in Middle Earth,” Lee sighed, “I talked to Thorin the other day.” He did not miss the look of annoyance Mithrandir gave him. He sighed, “I have not spoken to another elf since the beginning of the 4th Age. After that I had some relations with the dwarves before they left their mountains for the cities.”

Mithrandir nodded as if he knew exactly what the problem with Lee was, “You’ve been alone far too long.”

Lee scoffed.

“You’ve forgotten who you are.”

Lee gritted his teeth. He’d had enough, “I’d love to forget,” he snapped. He would not stand there and listen to the insults of an ignorant wizard. He knew nothing of what he’d been through. “You think I want to remember how I hid in my forest as it was riddled by darkness and dwindled to nothing?” he demanded, “You think I want to remember how I betrayed my friends? How I sent my son to fight for me when I would not leave my kingdom? How I-” he stumbled to a halt as what he’d been saying finally caught up to him. He looked away, and began massaging his temple.

“You _have_ changed for the better,” Mithrandir smiled, “Regret is a good thing but it is time to let it go.”

Lee scoffed. Just like that? As always the wizard was unrealistically optimistic. “How can I?” he asked, gesturing to the room, “When my biggest regret sits at a table just over there.”

“You can, and you will,” Mithrandir reassured, “For starters you can help them.”

Lee gave a laugh. Of course. That was what this all came down to. Mithrandir didn’t care how he felt. He didn’t care what he was going through. He simply wanted his help. Lee looked towards the company of men and caught a sight of Richard’s smile. He would help them. It was the least he could do. 

“Tell me what you need,” he said.

“I’d like you to watch over him.”

Lee frowned, “Over Richard?”

“Over Thorin, yes.”

The wizard nodded, “I do not yet know how this is all possible but I do know it happened for a reason,” Mithrandir looked toward the company and frowned, “I suspect they are here to counter some great evil.”

“A great evil?” he asked, “You can’t possibly think that…Sauron is back, can you?” he asked, frowning, “Sauron died, Mithrandir. He died…twice, and the second time for good.”

“I believe there is an even darker power at work here.” Mithrandir said gravely, “Morgoth.”

Lee shivered at the mere mention of that dreaded name, “No…No, no, no. He is gone. Well and truly. Banished beyond this world. Why in Middle E- Why on Earth would he want this group of dwarves?”

“It is simply an idea that needs considering.”

“Mithrandir, if he is back then there is no power on this Earth that could save us. Humanity is more divided than the races of Middle Earth ever were. It would be so easy for him to defeat us. If he is back then in little under a year our entire world would be pulled into his darkness. Why would a small group of dwarves matter to him?”

“It is the little things that I find make the biggest of differences.”

“Again, the optimism,” Lee rolled his eyes, and then he realised something. The man Richard had spoken of, the one who owned the building opposite his hotel…who was he? “Why is it that the company has gathered now, Mithrandir?”

“Perhaps you haven't changed,” the wizard answered, “Evil can still weasel it's way right under your nose without you even noticing, Thranduil.”

“ _Who_ is it that Richard is after?”

“Smaug.”

Lee felt sick, “He’s back?” he spluttered.

“Azog as well.”

Lee felt the sudden need to sit down, but instead, placed a hand on the glass in front of him and leant gently on it.

“When I realised that the Company had been born again, I guided each member onto the right path,” Mithrandir explained, “All I had to do was orchestra their meeting and it wasn’t long before their old friendships were rekindled anew.”

“Meddlesome is certainly your middle name,” Lee answered, half-heartedly, still in shock.

“Some of the company remember. Why not all I do not know. But no matter what happens we cannot try to tell them. To do so might cause more harm than good. Some are already plagued with nightmares. It is better for them to remember on their own.”

Lee nodded, “Fine.”

Then Mithrandir smiled, “But do not worry for we are not as under-prepared as we may seem. With our combined efforts we will prevent the darkness from returning.”

Lee shook his head, “I should leave.”

“Nonsense, this is as much of your problem as it is ours,” Mithrandir said, “If you leave now you are abandoning the dwarves just as you did all those years ago.”

“Do not use my past to sway me wizard, it would not be wise of you,” he growled.

“I understand,” Mithrandir replied, “You are worried that Thorin will remember who it is he has befriended. Don’t bother denying it, he has told me about Lee, and he has talked fondly of him. He has taken a liking to you. Thorin will remember that, and if he does not I will remind him. The feud of dwarves and elves is long over and Thorin must get over it too,” then he placed a hand on Lee’s shoulder, “I would feel great relief if I knew that you were looking after him.”

Lee sighed and looked over his shoulder, his gaze met Richard’s. The man seemed worried as if he knew what sort of conversation Lee was having with his ex-psychiatrist.

“If you think this is your way of giving me a second chance…” Lee muttered, before realising he had no threat or warning to add, and that he was too tired to try and come up with one.

He didn’t expect a reply but Mithrandir still gave one, “Perhaps you deserve a second chance.”

Lee ignored his words and watched as the last members of the company arrived and everyone took their seats. He sat away from the crowd and did not contribute to the conversation, hoping to go unnoticed. Unfortunately this was not wholly achieved.

One of the last to arrive had been the hobbit of the company, and ever since he’d first met Lee’s gaze across the room he had had been watching him with suspicion. Lee noticed him talking to Mithrandir at one point and specifically look toward him. The look of surprise and curiosity that flashed over the man’s face sent a chill down Lee’s spine. Bilbo remembered him.

Later the hobbit came to sit beside him. He didn’t talk, though, not until a lot later, “Gandalf tells me you’ve decided to help the company out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Is that so difficult to believe?” Lee asked him.

“Strange would be a better word,” the man replied, “Have you been here since…?” he trailed off but Lee knew what he meant.

“Yes.”

“Then I guess it’s not strange at all. God knows how long you’ve had to think about it all. Everything came back to me a couple of years ago and I’ve had a hard time acknowledging it all. You…you’ve had centuries to contemplate your mistakes.”

“I’m not the only one who has made mistakes, halfling,” Lee growled.

“Oh I know.” the man nodded, “You’ll remember I’m the one who found the One ring. Much pain could have been prevented if I had only gone to Gandalf from the start.”

“We all make mistakes, and we have to live with them.”

"And make up for them if we can?” Bilbo asked.

Lee crossed his arms, “I’m not doing this to make amends. I want to help, if you can believe it.”

“Perhaps,” Bilbo answered, “I’d watch your back, though. If Thorin remembers don’t expect forgiveness from him. You know how stubborn he can be. You’re going to have to prove your loyalty.”

“I’ll worry about that when he remembers.”

“If he remembers.”

Lee frowned, “You don’t think he will?”

“Each of the company are remembering at their own pace. It started with the youngest, and then those who were shocked out of their new personas. Gandalf suspects that if Thorin remembers he’ll be one of the last. He even has dreams of his past life and yet he can’t recognise them as memories. I fear he might be too far in denial. The past is too painful for him.”

Lee grimaced, he could understand that, “Does he need to remember?”

Bilbo shook his head, “I suppose you hope he won’t.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Richard is great,” Bilbo explained, “But he’s not Thorin. He doesn’t have Thorin’s strength or Thorin’s cunning. He’s a good soldier but we’re going to need more than just a good soldier if we want to defeat Smaug. Smaug has the luxury of his past memories as well as his knowledge of the modern world. As do I, Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin and yourself. The others are ignorant to it. None of them could fight with a sword if they tried. They are ignorant to the extent to which Azog and Smaug know them. Richard doesn’t understand what he’s getting into, and we will need Thorin before the end or I’m afraid I don’t think we will succeed.”

“Could you not have just found somewhere else in the country to live?” Lee asked, “Couldn’t you have sent him away? Sent him to live somewhere else, happy?”

“I’m afraid the one thing Richard shares with Thorin to an equal degree is his stubbornness and loyalty. None of us could stop Richard if we tried. What we need to make sure, and I’m assuming that you’re going to help us with this, is that Richard remembers as soon as possible.”

“And how in Eru’s name are we going to achieve that?” Lee asked.

“Gandalf and I suspect that the Arkenstone might be exactly what Richard needs to jog his memory.”

“The heart of the mountain?” Lee asked, his mouth going dry, “You have to be joking?”

“It’s connected to everything. Gandalf thinks it might be the only thing that will help Richard remember. It sat on the throne of Thror, it was in Erebor, Smaug took it, I stole it, you and Bard tried to barter it, it’s the source of Thorin’s regret and shame concerning the gold sickness. It holds so many of Thorin’s memories. It has to work.”

“It also holds the possibility of the gold sickness.”

“But Richard isn’t a dwarf.”

Lee nodded, that was true, however, “Mithrandir told me that it would be ill-advised to try to remind any of the company of who they were. How do we know this won’t be detrimental?”

“We don’t,” Bilbo agreed, “But it’s either that or Richard gets himself killed trying to go up against a dragon and an orc, thinking he’s dealing with men.”

“Where is the Arkenstone?”

Bilbo pointed to Smaug’s building.

“Of course,” Lee sighed, “So that’s what Mithrandir has planned. He’s told Richard that he could find documents in there, and I suppose you’re going in with them to steal the stone.”

Bilbo nodded, “Just like old times.”

Lee laughed, cynically. The plan made sense, though he had no idea if it could work. He feared what Thorin might do when he remembered but Bilbo had a point about Richard’s naivety. It _would_ get him killed. Lee couldn’t let that happen again. He looked up and watched Richard speak, hands raised, voice loud and commanding.

“Azog has arrived in England,” he was saying, “We don’t know where he is or why he’s here but I suspect he will not be close behind Smaug. This is our chance to take back what was stolen from us. We will win back our freedom!”

There was a loud cheer from all around, though Lee noticed Mithrandir and Bilbo simply stared in silent solemness. Richard’s bright eyes met his own, and Lee tried to smile in reply to the grin Richard gave him but all the revelations of the night weighed heavily on his heart and he was forced to look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah…whoops long chapter. Sorry I've been away. Study is going...okay... /: bit bleh if I'm honest but exams are still yet to come urgh. Anyway this chapter is super long, and I don't really know what happened there but hey there's more for you guys to read. Because it's so long tho I haven't had time to go over it so I'm betting there are a ton of mistakes. Sorry about that. I'll fix them eventually. Unfortunately, because I'm still in the midst of exams updates are going to continue to be irregular. I'll work on it when I can. But hey look things are getting intense! ;D  
> Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you guys think.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _All he had to do was stay in one place for as long as possible and await the programs download._
> 
> _He had an earplug in his ear that served as a comm between Richard and himself, “How you doing?" Richard asked._
> 
> _“Fine,” Lee replied quietly, “How much longer?”_
> 
> _“I’m afraid we’re not even a quarter of the way.”  
> _

When Lee had agreed to helping Richard and his men he hadn’t expected that he’d be ‘helping’ first handedly. Though, he supposed, he wasn’t exactly disappointed or annoyed at the prospect. It gave him an excuse to not only wear his nicer suit but also to spend more time with Richard.

Smaug knew the faces of Richard and his men and so it was up to Lee to get into his building unnoticed. His task was simple. He had to sit in the lobby of Smaug’s corporate building and pretend he was awaiting a meeting with the ~~dragon~~ man himself, while ~~Ori~~ Adam downloaded a program into Smaug’s computer. Lee laid a hand on his briefcase absentmindedly, an old leather one that Mithrandir had given him; it contained equipment that Ori was apparently going to use to hack into Smaug’s security system. The terminology was lost on Lee but he could understand the gist of it. All he had to do was stay in one place for as long as possible and await the programs download.

He had an earplug in his ear that served as a comm between Richard and himself, _“How you doing?”_ Richard asked.

“Fine,” Lee replied quietly, “How much longer?”

_“I’m afraid we’re not even a quarter of the way.”_

Lee had already been there for half an hour and he was beginning to draw attention to himself from the receptionist and security guards. One of the guards decided at that moment to come his way.  
 “Sir, what did you say your name was?”

Lee looked up at the man and smiled, “Edwards.”

“And you say you have an appointment?”

 _“Keep your cool,”_ Richard spoke into his comm, _“Say you’re sure that you had a meeting that day, that you spoke to a receptionist and thought it had been organised.”_

“I was sure I had a meeting with Mr Smaug today. I did speak with a woman to organise the meeting. She assured me that her boss was expecting me.” he smiled again, “I’m afraid I’m quite early, though,” he added, hoping that would give the program sufficient time to run.

The guard grimaced, “There’s no Edwards in Mr Smaug’s timetable today,” he answered, “We’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Lee stood.

 _“What are you doing?”_ Richard demanded, _“We can’t have you thrown out! Don’t anger him.”_

He had no intention of doing so, “Are you telling me that I’m simply forced to leave just because you’ve misplaced my appointment, and my details? I came all the way to London for this meeting, and you expect me to leave without little more than a quick look through your bosses diary?”

 _“Good, good,”_ Richard muttered into his ear, _“Don’t take it too far, though, Lee.”_

“I expect a little more from Mr Smaug. You’re quickly making me rethink my business proposal.”

The guard, who to his great credit managed to almost spectacularly maintain an air of indifference, swallowed and asked him to wait just a moment. Lee nodded, giving an over-exaggerated sigh of exasperation before turning his back on the man.

 _“We just reached a quarter of the way,”_ Richard explained.

“We need more time,” Lee replied, before turning back to watch the security guard finish talking with the receptionist.

The guard returned, “We’re going to take another look through our files,” he explained, “There is a possibility that your appointment was misplaced. We do have two receptionists and Marie thinks her colleague must have been the one you spoke to on the phone. We apologise for the wait.”

Lee nodded, “Yes,” he said, sighing, “I guess these things happen.”

“If you would follow me, sir, I will take you to the second reception where your details and meeting can be confirmed.”

Lee hesitantly picked up his briefcase.

 _“Lee we’re not going to be able to upload the system if you’re moving,”_ Richard warned him.

“The boss isn’t here at the moment,” the guard said, as he lead Lee away from the main lobby, “He’s at a meeting across town so it’s unlikely that your meeting is today.”

“Perhaps one of us mistook the date or time?” Lee supplied.

The guard nodded as they reached the other reception. The man behind the counter passed a sheet to the security guard who then passed it to Lee, “If you could fill out this form we can set up an information sheet for Mr Smaug to look over. It will also help pass the time while we look for your appointment.”

Lee nodded and took the pen and paper offered to him.

 _“Okay, fill out the information sheet,”_ Richard ordered, _“It will give us more time.”_

He took his time in filling out the paperwork, making up names and addresses as he went. If Smaug ever saw the documents he’d know that they hadn’t been filled out correctly but for all intents and purposes on a quick glance it seemed as if Lee’s details were all in check. The security guard waited by his side the entire time, which meant Lee couldn’t dawdle too long and so when he had finished the paperwork and the guard had passed it back to the receptionist he found himself wondering how much longer he could delay things.

 _“We’re almost halfway,”_ he was informed through his comm.

“Would you like any refreshments while you wait?” the guard asked Lee.

_“Ori thinks he can speed up the process if you can get away from the security.”_

“I was actually just wondering if I could use the bathroom?” Lee asked.

The guard nodded, “Right this way, sir.”

When the guard entered the bathroom with Lee he turned around and gave a smile, “Tea, if that’s alright?”

Lee watched the conflicting emotions play out across the security guards face. He was probably suspicious of Lee - and with good reason, Lee knew he’d bee suspicious in such a situation - but the man was British…and even a security guard could not deny a man a cup of tea.

After a moment the guard nodded, “I’ll have one organised, sir.”

Lee smiled, “Thank you.”

As soon as the man had left Richard’s voice returned in his comms with urgency, _“Okay, Lee, open up the briefcase.”_

Lee stepped into a cubicle, slammed the toilet seat down and placed the briefcase on top. He pulled off his jacket, already feeling flustered as he listened for further instructions. He opened up the briefcase and groaned at the sight of machinery and wires.

 _“We’re just passing the halfway point, Lee, but if things go to plan Ori thinks he can have the program running at twice the speed,”_ Richard explained, _“Unfortunately, this will only work if your changes to the device are accurate. Any wrong moves could mean we’d have to start all over again.”_

“We don’t have the luxury for that,” Lee responded, rolling up his sleeves and kneeling before the device, “Okay explain what I need to do and keep in mind I know nothing about computers.”

There was a crackle on the other end as the comm was passed over to someone else, _“Hi, Lee,”_ a young voice greeted - it was the young man Lee had met the other night, _“Okay so the plan is that we’re going to make the device do twice the work. To do that we’re going to have to double up with some of its functions. There’s a secondary device which isn’t supposed to start working until the first few programs have run their course and the upload has reached three quarters of the way. My idea is to start the secondary program while the first is already running. It will mean more work for me afterwards but it will hopefully be a lot faster.”_

Lee nodded, forgetting that the others could not see him, “Okay then how do we do that?”

 _“The main device is the large, square shaped one with the slots along its side, there should be a couple of free slots that you can plug wires into,”_ Ori explained.

“Yes, I can see them.”

_“The rectangular device in the right hand corner of the case is the secondary device. It’ll have a couple of thin wires that connect from it to both the main device, as well as the small screen down the bottom.”_

Lee could see all of that, “Yes?”

_“You need to make a new network between the main device, secondary device and the screen. There should be a couple of spare parts in the pocket of the briefcase lid.”_

Lee quickly unzipped the lid and pulled out several cords and metallic pieces, “I have them,” he said.

_“What I need you to do is switch off the program - along the side of the main device there will be a green button - then disconnect the large grey cable connecting the two devices.”_

Lee did as he was instructed.

_“In the extra parts you’ll find a flat green sheet covered in silver notches, you need to unplug the grey cable from the secondary device and plug it into that sheet, there will be a couple connecters on the left side of it.”_

Lee sighed, completely lost to what he was actually doing and plugged the grey cable in, hoping that the click it made meant that it had connected properly, “Done.”

_“Take an extra cable, with the same ends as the grey cable you just used and plug it into the secondary device and the green sheet, just like you did with the grey cable.”_

It took Lee a moment to find the cable and another moment to connect it, “All done.”

 _“Press the button on the main device,”_ Ori told him, _“And then click the switch on the side of the secondary device. The screen should light up as soon as the secondary device begins working.”_

Lee took a deep breath before turning both devices on. The screen lit up after a moment but then a whooshing noise began, “Can you hear that?” he asked worriedly, “It’s making noises?”

 _“The fans have just started up. They’re there to cool the thing down. If it gets overheated the whole thing will shut down,”_ Ori explained, _“Don’t worry it’s meant to do that.”_

“Oh…” Lee breathed out, “Good.” He felt dizzy all of a sudden.

There was a crackle, “Well done, Lee,” Richard’s voice congratulated, “Everything seems to be working fine. We’ll be done in about ten minutes.”

At that very moment the door to the bathroom opened, “Sir?” came the security guard’s voice.

Lee stood quickly, “Yes, I’ll be out in just a moment,” he called.

 _“Shit, do you think you can delay for ten minutes?”_ Richard asked, _“You can’t move the briefcase until it’s finished.”_

The bathroom door closed and Lee pulled on his jacket, “I’ll have to,” he replied, closing the briefcase and leaving it on the toilet seat as he stepped out of the cubicle, “I’ll dawdle as long as I can. Tell me as soon as the upload is finished.”

“Will do,” Richard promised.

Lee took his time washing his hands and readjusted his hair in the mirror. He took the time to breathe and try to relax his tense muscles. All he had to do was give them ten minutes. He could do that. The bathroom door opened once again and the security guard stood there, waiting for him.

Lee shot him a smile, “Sorry,” he laughed, “The wife always tells me I spend too long in the bathroom.”

The guard looked uncomfortable at his attempt at conversation. Lee frowned, looking him up and down, wondering how he could pass the time. 

Then he noticed the ring on the man’s finger, “Are you married…” Lee squinted to read the man’s badge, “Dave?”

The man looked out into the corridor, as if wanting nothing better than to leave the conversation, and absentmindedly shook his head.

“I only ask because,” Lee gestured to the ring on the man’s finger.

Dave looked at his hand as if he’d forgotten about the ring and suddenly went rigid, letting the bathroom door close as he looked at Lee, “I…that…” he mumbled.

Then Lee nodded, “Ah not yet married then?” he asked.

The man looked away again as if nervous under Lee’s gaze. He turned back to the mirror and began readjusting his suit to give the man some privacy to his thoughts.

“If I could be so bold,” Lee began, wondering what would come of his comment, “If my suspicions are true the legislation has been passed to allow such a marriage.”

He turned to see Dave give him a surprised expression, “You are correct, sir.”

Lee smiled, “I suppose it can’t be as easy as simply getting married.”

“No,” Dave agreed, “There’s the matter of people’s opinions that we have to take into account.”

“Well,” Lee said, turning back to the mirror and readjusting his tie, “As I have always maintained…fuck people’s opinions. Get married anyway.”

Dave laughed, “My boyfriend would agree with you.”

Lee smiled, “You might be surprised to find that a lot of the people you know would support you.”

Dave shrugged, “They do…I just worry that if we made it public…that…”

“Sometimes you can’t know until you try,” Lee explained, “I was so nervous before I asked my wife,” he smiled at the memory, “I almost thought she’d turn me down.”

Dave laughed, “She obviously didn’t.”

“No,” Lee said, turning away from the sad smile his reflection gave him.

 _“A minute left,”_ Richard informed him.

Lee had almost forgotten Richard was there. He turned to Dave and gave him a smile, “Well I think you should do what you think is best and if people give you trouble you don’t need them in your life.”

Dave smiled, “Thank you, sir.”

_“30 seconds.”_

Lee stepped toward the door.

“Don’t forget your briefcase, Sir,” Dave reminded him.

Lee smiled, “Sorry.”

_“10 seconds.”_

“I have the worst memory,” He laughed, “I’d forget my head if it weren’t screwed on.”

_“5.”_

He stepped over to the cubicle, and bent over the briefcase.

_“3, 2, 1…”_

He took a hold of the handle.

_“…You’re good to go.”_

He lifted the briefcase up and gave Dave a smile as he held the bathroom door open for him. After they’d walked back to the reception his phone rang and he excused himself.

“Cameron Edwards,” he greeted.

“Okay I’m calling you to give you an excuse to leave. Tell them something came up and you have to go urgently. Smaug is just on his way back from his meeting. We can’t have him bumping into you.”

“Right, okay, I understand,” he said, hanging up, and turning back to the security guard, and the receptionist.

“I’m really sorry, something’s come up,” he smiled apologetically, “My phone number is on the sheet I just filled out.”

The security guard, Dave, smiled at him, “We’re very sorry for the mixup.”

Lee shook his head, “It’s absolutely fine. These things happen all the time.”

Then he turned and walked out of the building. A car met him right outside and once he was seated he deflated, sighing with absolute relief.

Richard laughed into his comm, “See you soon,” he said.

The driver, a grey-haired man, Lee recognised from the meeting and whose name he believed was Dori? Or perhaps Nori?, turned back with a smile, “Well done,” he congratulated, before they drove away.

Lee mumbled in response and rubbed at his eyes, willing the pounding stress-headache to leave him be and let him relax. He couldn’t be more glad that the whole situation was over. Ten minutes later they arrived at Bilbo’s bookshop. He was taken out the back where Ori was seated at a computer.

“Is it working?” Lee asked as he stepped into the room.

“We’re having some problems,” Richard explained, not taking his eyes away from the computer screen.

It was half an hour later before they heard any more news from Ori or Richard. Bilbo had supplied Lee with tea and biscuits and had sat down next to him to thank him properly when there was an exclamation of anger.

“Fuck!” Richard swore.

“What happened?” Mithrandir asked.

Richard threw up his arms and sighed exasperatedly, rubbing a hand across his mouth, “See for yourself.”

Lee got up to see what was going on, and groaned when he saw the computers screen. White letters flashed across a black background.

**_‘Thank you for showing us the holes in our security system. Have a nice day, dwarves.’_ **

“It was all for nothing!” Richard growled, walking out of the room.

“Go after him,” Bilbo said to Lee, nudging him towards the door, “Try to calm him down.”

Lee nodded and walked out. He found Richard leaning against the wall, his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists.

“Richard?” he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“The fucking asshole is always three steps ahead of us!” Richard spat, “He knew…he fucking knew…”

“We can try again.”

Richard turned on him, “We can’t!” he shot back, waving in the air wildly, “He knows we’re coming after him now.”

Lee took his hand and held it firmly, “Calm down,” he urged.

Richard took a long, deep breath.

“Are you sure that it wasn’t an automatic thing?” Lee tried, “Maybe he hasn’t actually seen that we’ve hacked into his security system yet? I mean,” he winced, “I can’t say I understand much of this but is there anyway we could hide what we just did? Make him think that it wasn’t us or…something.”

Richard stared at him for a moment, before a smile broke out across his face, “That might actually work,” he laughed.

Lee smiled back, glad that his idea wasn’t completely useless. Then suddenly Richard had leant towards him, and Lee blinked in surprise as lips met his. Lee couldn’t remember the last time he had been kissed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to be kissed. Richard was kissing him! Richard’s beard brushed against his chin as he pressed his chest against Lee’s. The kiss was soft, innocent, a happy, relieved gesture. But…but…but shit, Richard was kissing him!!! Lee pushed Richard away gently, and Richard didn’t resist as he leant back to give Lee a puzzled look. Lee supposed that probably had something to do with the fact that he had been frozen in place with the shock of the affectionate gesture.

“I’m sorry…” Richard said, looking away worriedly, “What you said to the guard…your wife. I-”

“She died a long time ago,” Lee responded, numbly.

He couldn’t stop staring at Richard’s lips. It would be so easy to pull Richard forwards, to kiss him and pretend this wouldn’t, eventually, backfire. But it would. If everything went to plan and Bilbo and Mithrandir’s idea worked then Richard would remember who he was…and kissing him would only give Thorin further reason to hate his guts.

Richard watched him with a hopeful look in his eyes but instead of pulling him into a kiss Lee smiled sadly, “Dating me would be a bad idea,” he said.

Richard frowned, “What?”

“I’m sorry, I just…I can’t date you,” he said, “Please, don’t mistake this as anything else but…I do care about you a lot,” he said, “But I can’t…date you.” 

Richard pulled his hand out of Lee’s grip, “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry…it’s too complicated to explain,” he answered, “Maybe if all of this wasn’t happening we could…but…” and then he saw his chance, his chance to persuade Richard to step back from this stupid, suicidal mission of his, and live a happy life, “I want to say something before things get too out of hand. I’m afraid you might not like it but…I’m worried, Richard,” he said, “I’m worried about what will happen to you and your family if you go up against Smaug.”

Richard frowned, “I can’t let them take everything I had,”* he said.

“What if someone finds out what you’re doing?” Lee asked, “And you’re killed for it?”

“I don’t have a choice!” he exclaimed.

“Of course you do,” Lee scoffed, “We all do. You could walk away from this right now.” 

“No. I can’t, Lee. You-” he shook his head, “You don’t understand!”

“You could be happy? Why is it so hard for you to see that the braver thing to do - the smarter thing to do - is _not_ to fight back but to walk away?” Lee demanded, “Do you want your nephews to grow up without an uncle? Do you want your sister to wonder and worry what happened to you?”

Richard shook his head and was about to walk back into the main room when he turned back, “If you don’t believe in any of this then leave,” he snapped.

Lee scoffed, “You’re being…God you’re so stubborn!” 

Richard grimaced, “Perhaps, but at least I’m not being selfish. I won’t leave my friends, my family…there’s nothing you can say that would- I’d never turn my back!” then Richard looked away, “Nothing’s keeping you here…so leave.”

Lee clenched his fists, “Fine!” he spat, before pulling on the front door and walking out, slamming it behind him, “Damn that infuriating, idiot of a dwarf,” he grumbled to himself, pulling up his collar against the cold air.

He walked for several blocks, and was so angry that he did not notice the car following him. Even if he had noticed, though, he would not have recognised the man at its wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahahaha *coughs* remind me to stay away from the spy genre…I’m crap at writing suspense and pulling off tech-talk. Could you tell I was bull-shitting? I’m so so sorry for the long wait a ton of stuff is happening at home…and I’m struggling to find time to write.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He was lying on the couch when his phone rang, and he almost didn’t answer it. He wouldn’t have if he didn’t value the lives of his friends and family over his grudges. He picked the offending device up and answered it despite the flashing name across the screen._
> 
> _“What is it Lee?” he demanded._
> 
> _“I’m afraid he cannot come to the phone right now,” answered a horribly familiar voice.  
> _

He was lying on the couch when his phone rang, and he almost didn’t answer it. He wouldn’t have if he didn’t value the lives of his friends and family over his grudges. He picked the offending device up and answered it despite the flashing name across the screen.

“What is it Lee?” he demanded.

“I’m afraid he cannot come to the phone right now,” answered a horribly familiar voice.

Richard felt every muscle in his body tense, “Azog,” he croaked.

“Hello, Thorin, it’s been too long.”

“Where’s Lee?”

“Oh you mean Greenwood?” Azog laughed, “He’s here,” there was a loud bang and an echoing cry of pain.

“What do you want?” Richard demanded.

"I want to have a bit of fun with him and then I’ll let him go,” Azog responded, “I just wanted to make sure you knew that your boy toy was having a play date with me and that you shouldn’t worry. We won’t stay up too late, promise!”

“Azog!” Richard growled, “If you hurt him!”

There was a beep as Azog hung up. Richard collapsed back onto the couch, his phone dropping from his shaking hand.

“Richard?”

He looked up to see Martin standing in the doorway.

“Did I just hear the name Azog?”

The rest of the day was utter hell. He pestered Adam to hack into every security camera in a several mile radius, and shouted at him when they found nothing. He refused any food Martin brought him and almost had to tackle Mr Grey to get to the gun drawer. Once he had his gun and he’d managed to get out of the house he walked the streets, trying to burn off his anxiety as he awaited some kind of sign. He’d rung Lee’s phone so many times, already, and yet there was never any answer. Azog had to ring him back, he had to. The fucking asshole had to have some plan in mind; this had to be some attempt to get something from him…What if he’d harmed Lee? What if Lee was dead? There had to be something Richard could do. 

The sun was beginning to set when he finally got the text: _They let me go. Meet me at my flat ASAP_

He hailed a taxi and was at Lee’s flat in under ten minutes. He hoped to every bloody God that there every bloody was that Lee was alright. He barely had enough time to breathe before he’d pulled open the front door to the apartment block, and had pulled out his gun. He clicked off the safety as he climbed the stairs to the next floor. 

The apartment block was silent, most of its residents likely asleep for the night. Richard tried not to think of other reasons why it might be quiet. Surely, if Lee was alright, he’d have made a noise by now, he'd have waited by the door, called him and told him himself. The fact he hadn’t suggested the exact opposite, which is why Richard had his gun handy.

He reached the landing and wiped his sweating hands on his jeans, before taking a deep breath and checking the door. He found it unlocked and pushed it open lightly, gun up and at eye level in a moment. The rooms beyond were dark. He crept forwards, checking both doorways for anyone, and moving into the main room. He reached for the light with his left hand and turned it on.

On the dining room table sat Lee’s phone, and underneath it lay a note.

‘ _Rooftop_ ’ it read ominously.

A trap then, he thought. It couldn’t be anything else. He took only a moment to check the rest of the flat, looking for any other weapons he could hide on himself. He grabbed a cloth and wrapped a kitchen knife in it, sticking it down the back of his jeans. Then he noticed the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye. For a moment he thought it was a prop sword but upon closer inspection he saw that it was sharp.

There was something familiar about it. Looking back on this moment he couldn’t tell what possessed him to take it but he felt like it was important. He took the steps two at a time, his heart hammering in his chest. Images of Lee flashed through his mind, sliced and slashed, broken and bruised…He knew what Azog could do to a person. God, if Lee had been hurt…Richard couldn’t bear to think about it. No one else was supposed to get hurt. Lee had nothing to do with any of it; he hadn’t even known about Smaug and Azog until a week ago.

He pushed open the door to the rooftop and his first sight was Lee tied to a chair. Their eyes met.

“Thorin!” Lee shouted, “It’s a trap. Azog-”

He had only a moment to be confused by Lee’s use of the name ‘Thorin’ before he was sent sprawling onto the ground from a kick to the back. The gun and sword he had brought with him flew from his grip as he landed on the concrete floor. The knife in his jeans would have sliced open his back if not for the cloth he’d wrapped it in. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have a hell of a bruise the next day.

Lee stared down at him in worry, and Richard got only a glimpse of a bruised cheek before he was grabbing the sword and using it to slice into the rope that bound Lee to the chair. He saw figures step out of the darkness all around them but with Lee out of the chair they might have more of a chance.

“Thorin!” Lee warned, “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

Richard flinched again at the use of his codename but he didn’t have the time to wonder about it. Adrenaline was starting to kick in.

Lee began undoing the bindings on his ankles once his hands were free. A man loomed over the both of them and Richard threw himself to where his gun lay, taking only a moment to aim before firing a shot to the neck, which sent the man spluttering and gurgling to the floor. Lee barely paid the fallen man any mind as he stood and picked up his sword.

Richard saw a glint of metal from within the shadows but had only a moment to think _’holy shit they all have swords’_ before one of Azog’s men were swinging such a weapon in his direction. He ducked out of the way, sending several shots flying but only hitting home once, to the shoulder. The man stumbled but renewed his attacks with further ferocity.

From out of the corner of his eye he could see Lee swinging his own sword with an otherworldly, fluidity that dispatched two men in one swing. Richard barely had a moment to wonder what the hell was happening before he heard the telling click of a gun being cocked. He sought out the firearm with his eyes but it was too dark to tell who had the gun. He fired a couple more shots, sending one man crashing to the floor with a wound to the upper leg.

Richard raised his gun to shoot at the other two men but he was out of ammunition and it was more for show than anything. They didn’t approach, though, and he was thinking frantically for what to do next when he felt the familiar shape of a gun’s muzzle against his neck. The clash of metal ceased and Richard saw Lee stop fighting, as he turned terrified eyes upon him.

Azog laughed into his ear, “It is good to see you again, Thorin.”

Richard wanted to reassure Lee that everything would be alright, or perhaps he would have insulted Azog but the moment he went to speak he got a mouthful of Azog’s foul breath and a kick to the ribs. He collapsed to his knees with a grunt.

“Thorin?” Lee breathed, “Azog, don’t you dare!” he warned, “Whatever you want, I can-”

“Quiet,” Azog snarled at Lee, “Don’t pretend to think you can stop me… _Mr_ Greenwood…you were weak back then and you are weak now. This is between Thorin and myself.”

Richard had barely a moment to register the fact that Lee and Azog seemed to know one another…before a blade was brought to rest on Richard’s shoulder, the sharp edge teasing his neck with the pain it could inflict. He swallowed, and hoped Azog had a strong swing. He’d seen too many botched jobs and he’d rather a quick death.

One of Azog’s men took his gun, and stepped over the fallen bodies of his comrades to take Lee’s sword. Richard had seen many a man’s reactions to being disarmed after a failed mission, and it didn’t matter how strong or brave or fearful or small the person was. If you wanted to gage a man’s character, you watched a man’s reaction to being disarmed. Richard wondered how Lee would react: whether he’d lay down his arms, break down, or fight to the death.

The dangerous glint in Lee’s eyes gave Richard enough time to fish out the knife from his jeans before Lee swung his sword, gutting the man in front of him. Richard slipped from Azog’s grip in the confusion, feeling his shoulder slice on the assassin’s blade. He swung the kitchen knife, slicing into Azog’s dominant arm. The man screamed as Richard felt the backlash of metal hitting bone. Blood splattered across his face as he slid out of the way of Azog’s swinging blade.

He wiped the blood from his eyes to see Azog run for the fire escape. He climbed to his feet to chase after him but Azog had already jumped the steps to the next landing. He’d never have caught him in time. Instead Richard let him go. They’d barely survived and he didn’t like the idea of tempting fate.

He turned just in time to see Lee dispatch Azog’s last man. He smiled at him, before noticing how pale Lee looked. The man visibly swallowed, wobbling on the spot, before collapsing.

Richard rushed to his side, “Lee? Lee, are you alright?”

He grunted in response, “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t fine. Now that Richard had a chance to get a good look at him Lee’s face was covered in blood and bruises. His trembling hand was also clutching his side. Richard swallowed before slowly pulling back his jacket to reveal the blood soaked t-shirt underneath. He winced.

“This doesn’t look good,” he muttered, “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“It’s fine,” Lee assured.

“It’s not fine, Lee, you were stabbed! I’m not leaving you to fucking bleed out on me,” he snapped, “I can sow up most wounds pretty decently but this is looking like its a bit beyond my ability.”

“You’re bleeding too,” Lee slurred, eyes fluttering.

Richard raised a hand to his neck, and pulled it away bloody. It wasn’t deep enough to have done any damage, though, otherwise he’d already know. Lee’s wound on the other hand. He pulled out his phone with shaking hands.

“Thorin, t’s fine,” Lee mumbled, “J’st need rest…body’s already…healing.”

Richard ran a hand through Lee’s hair in an attempt to soothe him as he gave his whereabouts and the seriousness of the situation to the man on the phone.

Once Lee was sown up and his cracked ribs - several according to the doctor - were set back in place Richard visited him in his hospital room. They’d got a lot of questions and odd looks when they were found on the roof and really Richard had no idea how he was going to explain this to the authorities. He’d called Mr Grey and told him what had happened, and the Psychiatrist had assured Richard that he would deal with the police, and that all he had to worry about was making sure Lee was alright.

Lee _was_ alright - now at least - and now that he was, and Richard’s adrenaline had left his system, he was faced with several troubling thoughts and even more troubling questions…Lee had acted with the brutality and speed of a soldier. The blood and death had not phased him one bit. He had fought with broken ribs, and he'd not even made a noise whilst being stabbed…meaning he had an uncanny ability to fight through pain. He’d known how to inflict damage to a person, and with a sword no less. He’d fought with the weapon like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d used it before in countless similar situations. The way he’d fought…those were not skills one learned in fencing.

Lee had called him Thorin. No one called him Thorin. It was his codename and Smaug and Azog knew him solely by that name. It was why his team hadn’t used it since their return to the UK. Lee couldn’t have heard it from them. Richard frowned, nothing was making any sense. Lee had fought with a sword, just as Azog’s men had. He’d been left alive. If Azog wanted revenge why had he left Lee alive? Not only that but Azog had talked to Lee like he’d known him.

Lee’s grunt of discomfort brought Richard back to himself. As he watched the man wince and move about in bed, he crossed his arms and wondered if he’d just saved the life of a friend or a foe. Lee noticed him standing there and gave a weak smile.

“I would have been fine,” he muttered.

“You were going to bleed out,” Richard answered in a deadpan tone. 

Lee’s smile fell away when he recognised the tone and there was a look of fear in his eyes as Richard studied him. 

“I have some questions.”

Lee looked away and gave a nod.

“Why did you call me Thorin?”

Lee took a moment to reply, and when he did it sounded almost sincere, almost… “It was what Azog called you.”

Richard might have believed him but it didn’t explain why Lee had used it.

“And where do you know Azog from?”

“Why are you asking me these questions, Richard?” Lee demanded.

“How could you fight like that? Who the hell uses a sword?” Richard demanded, “I want to know if you’ve killed people before. I want to know if you’re working with Azog!”

“After everything…” Lee scoffed, then he gestured to himself, bed-ridden as he was, “Does it look like I’m working with Azog?”

Richard crossed his arms.

Lee sighed, “My father taught me how to use a sword. I know it might be a strange pass time to have now a days but it’s come in handy many times. Yes, I have killed people with it before - to protect myself, and my family and my friends…” Lee looked away, “I’d hope you could understand that,” he muttered, “I never met Azog personally. Though, we both knew each other by name,” he said, “I also know he has caused harm to many people who didn’t deserve it.” He looked back to Richard, face drawn and expression sad, “Is that justification enough or do I need to produce documents and witnesses too?”

“That will do for now,” Richard answered, pushing himself off from the wall. 

Richard gritted his teeth, and looked at Lee, sighing as he tried to put his confusion, his fear, his anxiety, into words. But he couldn’t even begin to explain to the man what was going on in his head, so he gave up.

“I’ll…talk to you later,” he said, finally.

Lee didn’t answer, and he left.

He’d have Adam look into Lee’s background, and find out if what he’d just been told was true. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it earlier. How could he have been so reckless, trusting someone he’d only just met with specific details about his family. What if that was the reason Smaug had known they were attempting to hack into his system? What if Lee had been working for Smaug and Azog the entire time? His hands were beginning to shake, and he became deftly aware of the rising anxiety in his chest, a jittery spider climbing up his windpipe. He had to fight down the urge to run through the rest of the hospital. He had to control his breathing, concentrate on putting one foot after the other, on keeping a low profile, on getting out of the hospital slowly and sanely. He didn’t want to break down where people could see him.

He’d have the panic attack in the car…

…where no one would see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait...once again. /: I've been trying to work on the plot for the next couple of chapters...because some major things are happening soon but I've been struggling. Anyway, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. 
> 
> I have a little something for everyone: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyOyE3_u7Zw 
> 
> Please leave a comment, and thank you for reading, I'll update soon! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This time Martin was to be there inside man. He was an unsuspecting, unsuspicious, and altogether rather boring - or so he might seem - man. Security checks were made upon every appointment with Smaug, and according to the computers analysing Martin’s data it would appear that he had a business proposition and was on shaky ground with several banks. That was to be his backstory. Richard knew Smaug couldn’t resist a desperate man’s plea for money. Martin wasn’t to go in alone, though, and that was where Richard came in. He refused to be left out of the mission and so he was to lead a small group (himself, James and Peter) in through the rooftop. From there they would head to Smaug’s office and go through his files while Martin kept him occupied. That was the plan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Italics_ for comms initiated by the users. _**Italics & Bold**_ for comms hacked by Adam/Ori or 'hooked up' as Richard/Thorin says in the story.
> 
> Incase you’ve forgotten about the Actor-Character photo link I gave earlier and are struggling to remember their names here it is again: http://www.geektown.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/12-dwarves-hobbit.jpg

Dozens of documents on Lee and witnesses to confirm them were found, and there was nothing to suggest Lee was or had ever been working with Azog or Smaug. Adam and Mr Grey informed Richard that Lee was skilled with a sword because he’d been a master fencer. They told him there was also documents on military service but he’d never served overseas and instead had dropped out. The evidence was clear and concise but it still didn’t sit right with Richard. There still seemed something off about Lee, something he wasn’t saying. Perhaps, Richard was being overly suspicious, or maybe he was being the right amount…

Either way, when he told Martin what he had done, and what he had found - or rather not found - the shorter man berated him. Richard stood by his decision, however. How could he know the lengths Smaug or Azog would go to…? Perhaps, he had been too harsh and mistrustful but it had been a shock, seeing Lee swing that sword, slicing into Azog’s men and barely looking fazed by it. How else was he supposed to react to that? He needed an explanation - Lee must have understood that - and when none was given he had to find his own.

He wasn’t good at making friends. He’d always known that. His stubborn, cynical, suspicion could have well and truly ruined their relationship…ruined his chance for…for what? He wasn’t even sure what he wanted from Lee. He’d known he wanted to be his friend. He’d known he was attracted to him from the day they’d met. He hadn’t planned that kiss in that hallway…but he’d liked it. Lee had too, he was sure of it but Lee had…and he had…

So what he wanted didn’t matter anymore. Not after what he’d said to Lee. Not now that they were so close to achieving their goal. Lee could have been useful in their operation but he wasn’t what they needed now, and that made it easier for Richard to dispel his unsettling and upsetting thoughts on the man. What they needed now was a unsuspecting man.

For a simple shop keeper Martin had always exceeded Richard’s expectations. They had met through his rehabilitation course - which the government had paid for, and his sister demanded that he go to. Every ex-veteran, the shell-shocked, the disabled, and the bored (namely him) were assigned a ‘friend’ who was to all intents and purposes their life line when things got tough.

Martin had been assigned to him, and thank god for that. Unlike the other ‘friends’ Martin did not talk to him like a mental patient, he did not push him to go to church or prevent him from going to the liquor store, he did not try to psychoanalyse him or demand he help with the groceries. No, Martin didn’t change his life much at all, not in the way he’d worried he might. Martin was simply there when Richard needed to talk, and really, that’s all the ‘friend’ program should have been.

Martin was sympathetic sure, but not pushy, he was loyal to a fault but didn’t put up with Richard’s stubbornness. He was kind, gentle, fun to be around but when he disagreed with something everyone had better watch out because they’d get a debate with such confounding logic and unbelievable passion that you’d either feel like applauding or running away with your tail between your legs. He was also a surprisingly brilliant strategist. If he didn’t love his food so much and refuse ardent exercise he would have been a brilliant soldier. Richard was immensely grateful that Martin had no interest in becoming one.

This time Martin was to be there inside man. He was an unsuspecting, unsuspicious, and altogether rather boring - or so he might seem - man. Security checks were made upon every appointment with Smaug, and according to the computers analysing Martin’s data it would appear that he had a business proposition and was on shaky ground with several banks. That was to be his backstory. Richard knew Smaug couldn’t resist a desperate man’s plea for money. Martin wasn’t to go in alone, though, and that was where Richard came in. He refused to be left out of the mission and so he was to lead a small group (himself, James and Peter) in through the rooftop. From there they would head to Smaug’s office and go through his files while Martin kept him occupied. That was the plan.

“Richard are you sure about this?” Graham asked.

He nodded and smiled, patting his friends shoulder, “Of course.”

“And you’re determined to go without either of us?” Graham gestured to himself and his brother.

“After me, you two are the next most recognisable,” Richard explained, “You’re also the most qualified, which means that if things go to shit I’ll need you to look after the others and keep them safe.”

“It won’t come to that,” Ken replied, making his words sound more like an order than anything.

Richard smiled, “I hope not but even so I want you both here as backup, alright?”

Ken placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “He has a point.”

“It doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Graham grumbled.

“Don’t worry about him, fellas!” James exclaimed, “Peter and I’ll protect him.”

Peter scoffed, “Like you’d harm a fly?”

James looked affronted, “I’ll have you know I’ve killed many a fly on the battlefield.”

Richard shook his head in amusement. James preferred to make everything a joke rather than dwell on his anxiety, and as a coping mechanism it wasn’t that bad. It made the others relax a bit, and kept up morale so Richard let the man joke. Martin wasn’t so amused, though.

 _“Smaug and his men are not flies!”_ Martin’s strained voice came through the comms, _“Please take this seriously, Bofur. He is a very real threat and you must be careful.”_

“We’ll be fine,” Richard said, trying to reassure the man, “Worry about yourself. I’ll keep Bofur out of trouble and Gloin will keep the both of us safe.”

Martin sighed, and James laughed, before planting a hand on Adam’s back. Adam, who’d been working at the computer, watching over security camera feeds among other things, looked up and turned to James. Richard caught a little of what James said, something about wanting a private channel to talk to Martin for a moment before he went in.

“I’ll be a moment,” James told Richard as he passed.

Richard gave him a nod and went to check zip-line guns once more. They were still fine but he knew James needed the privacy. He’d known for a while about Martin and James. He knew they fought. He knew Martin hated James being out there without him, and he knew James hated Martin for hanging onto him. Richard thought the relationship commendable. It had survived many odds and-

Lee’s face flashed across Richard’s mind and he winced, trying not to wonder why he’d thought of him now, trying not to feel the hurt and confusion that was brought to the surface of his mind by that stupid man’s face.

“Smaug has just finished his meeting and heading to his office,” Adam informed Martin through the comms, “He’ll be asking for you soon Bilbo.”

 _“Okay, I’m heading in,”_ Martin replied.

Richard placed a hand on James’ shoulder, “This is going to work.”

James nodded, “Yeah, I know, I know,” he sighed, “It’s just Martin is a civilian, he’s not…” 

“He’ll be fine,” Richard assured, adjusting his backpack and pulling his fingerless gloves tighter over his hands. “Worry about us,” he said, stepping over to the zip-line guns.

He looked back to Adam who gave him a nod, and then he shot the zip-line across to the next building. It buried itself in the concrete with a smack-bang that echoed across to their rooftop. He pulled on the line, before checking the gun was securely attached to their own building. When all seemed fine, Richard attached his trolley, clicked on his harness and turned to Adam awaiting his response.

Adam looked up from his monitor, _“Okay, you have five minutes to get everyone across. I’ll have the security feed down in the halls for another five minutes. You’re going to have to go when I say and not hesitate one moment. Get to Smaug’s office. There you’ll be safe. Okay go.”_

Richard kicked off and flew across from one rooftop to the next. When he was down he raised a hand and James followed suite. Richard pulled out his gun just incase and headed to the roof-top doorway, awaiting Adam’s next instruction.

_“Smaug has left his office and is heading to the meeting room. You want to go down the stairs and take the first exit, then right. Go.”_

Richard went, seeing James pull out his gun beside him, and Peter touch-down and unhook himself from the zip-line before hurrying to catch up. They took the stairs two at a time.

_“Hall’s clear.”_

Richard pushed the exit door open and slipped out into the hall, turning right and heading down the hall.

_“Up the steps at the end of the hall, left and his office is right there. I’ve stalled his door’s automated lock. You have three minutes before you need to move on. A guard will be standing outside that door in about five.”_

They ran up the steps, and hurried into the room, heading for the corner as soon as they were inside. Richard went for the blinds and pulled them down just enough to obscure most of their actions, but not to raise too much suspicion. James pushed the chair out from the desk and knelt in front of Smaug’s computer. He brought a hard-drive with him that held a hacking program and set to work. In the mean time, Richard and Peter began going through Smaug’s file cabinets.

_“Richard-”_

“Code-names Ori,” Richard reminded him, hurriedly, “We don’t know who might be listening.”

_“Sorry. I doubt anyone can hack my system. I thought-”_

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Richard replied, and when Adam didn’t answer he added a quick reassuring, “He knows my name, don’t worry.”

_“Bilbo and Smaug are now in discussion.”_

Richard nodded, “Understood.”

Three minutes later Adam spoke up again, _“Alright, pack up.”_

They pushed cabinet drawers back into place, pulled up the blinds and unhooked the hard-drive from Smaug’s computer.

“Have you got it?” Richard asked.

 _“Yep, got the recording, sending it through to Smaug’s computer now. Get going,”_ Adam replied, _“Take the stairs, head left, down the hall, left again, first door on your right. There’s a secretary. She’s on the phone so wait outside a moment.”_

They slipped out of Smaug’s office and headed down the hall. When they got to the door, they paused, Richard planting himself at its entrance, and James took to facing one end of the hall, while Peter faced the other, their guns raised. It was a minor inconvenience, one Richard believed they could afford. Besides, it gave him time to swap over to his non-lethal weapon.

_“Go.”_

Richard flung open the door, took a moment to aim and shot the woman in the neck. She had barely a moment to act surprised before the sedative began to work through her system and she fell forwards onto her desk.

_“You’re all clear. You should have about twenty minutes.”_

“Got it!” Richard replied, attempting to open the door to the next room.

It was locked.

James saw Richard’s expression and began searching through the desk. He found a what he was looking for and threw the keys at Richard, who caught them and began trying each one. The fourth key locked into place and they were in.

The room was far more cluttered than the last. There was no window, and cabinets lined both walls. There was a large, cumbersome desk with a PC and router; a router separate from the rest of the building’s internet, just as James had predicted. James set to work, once more, pulling out his hard-drive and plugging it into the machine. 

Richard went straight for the file cabinets on the left, just as Peter did the same on the right. They’d only been there for about a minute, when they all heard Adam’s sharp, in-take of breath over the comms. Richard folded a document that looked interesting and stuffed it into his jacket, just as his hand went to his comm.

“What is it?” he demanded.

_“Smaug knows.”_

James caught Richard’s eye, and looked as if he were a moment away from running to Martin’s aid, not that he’d be able to do anything. 

Richard shook his head, “We’ve worked too hard for this to give up now,” he warned him, “Bilbo knew the risk.” 

James gritted his teeth, “Thorin, I can’t-”

“We keep working,” Richard snapped, “Ori hook us up to Bilbo’s line. I want to hear what is happening. Then…” he looked at James, “Then if it gets bad we can deal with it.”

James gave a nod.

 _“Alright hooking you up now,”_ Adam informed them, _“I’d hurry it up there, though, Thorin.”_

Richard didn’t bother to give him a response. His heart was already racing with adrenaline and he was beginning to feel anxiety pouring through his limbs. Smaug’s voice was muffled through the comms but they could still hear him, and the bastard’s voice turned Richard’s anxiety into rage.

**_“Did they really think that you would serve as a sufficient distraction?”_ **

Every muscle in Richard’s body tensed.

**_“You're easily distracted, and you're still here aren't you?”_ **

Richard had never met Smaug face-to-face, and he’d thought Martin courageous for taking the challenge…but they’d had a cover for that…now Martin was out in the open, and Smaug knew they were in the building. If they survived this it was going to be a close thing.

**_“I enjoy watching your dwarves wander about in my den, thinking they know what they’re looking for.”_ **

Richard smirked at that, and doubled the speed of his search, pocketing another document, “How are you doing, Bofur?”

“Not enough time to search but now I’m not bothering to cover my tracks. Going to just copy what I can so we can get out of this.”

Richard nodded, “Good enough.”

**_“They won't find anything.”_ **

**_“Maybe not, or maybe you're bluffing.”_ **

**_“I don't need to bluff.”_ **

Richard caught sight of a document with unusual bank exchanges and folded the document in his hands, stuffing it in his jacket with the other documents. He tried to take a couple of long breaths, feeling his hands begin to shake as he hurried.

**_“So you have them exactly where you want them, then?”_ **

**_“Yes.”_ **

**_“See I doubt that.”_ **

**_“I have them on surveillance right here. They're in the wrong room. The room you all think to be my office is itself a misdirection. I have guards heading there now.”_ **

There was a moment of silence over the comms. Richard pocketed another document, shooting an unsure glance toward Peter, who was hurriedly stuffing a bunch of documents into his own jacket.

**_“Where are they?!”_ **

There was a crackling through the comms, and Richard held his breath, hoping Martin was alright. This was where things were going to get difficult.

**_“In your secondary room down the hall.”_ **

“What’s he doing?” Peter demanded, unsurely.

Richard gritted his teeth, “I don’t know…”

**_“...What?”_ **

**_“Your surveillance feed is a prerecording on loop.”_ **

“He’s giving us away!” Peter exclaimed.

James looked up from the computer, “No he wouldn’t! This must be- He must be…”

_“I don't know what Bilbo’s doing, Thorin,”_ Adam said, hurriedly, through the comms, _“But Smaug is on his way!”_

“Bilbo?” Richard growled through the comms, “Bilbo what the hell is going on?”

When there was no reply Richard clenched his hands into fists, “He’s betrayed us,” he spat, feeling his panic overflow into his voice.

James shook his head, “No, no he wouldn’t…there must be-”

“Bilbo’s given us away, what other explanation have we?” Richard demanded.

“We have to go!” Peter barked.

“I have to let this last document download or I might lose it all!” James exclaimed, “Thorin, about Bilbo…Martin…”

“He's made his decision!” Richard hissed, pulling his gun out and heading to the door.

 _“Holy-! Bilbo just managed to knock out the guards!”_ Adam exclaimed in shock.

James grinned in approval, “The download’s done-”

“Bilbo?” Richard tried again through the comms, “Bilbo what is going on?”

Their comms crackled, _“I’m sorry about this, Thorin,”_ Martin replied, breathlessly.

“What?” Richard growled.

But there was no response.

 _“He’s leaving!”_ Adam cried, _“And there are guards coming!”_ he screeched, _“Please, go guys! Get out!”_

Peter unhooked his gun just as James pulled the hard-drive out, his expression lost to shock and confusion. Richard pulled him to his feet, “Get it together!” he growled, “Go!”

James went for the door…

…but it was too late; it flung open as a heavily armed guard barged in, pulling James from Richard’s grasp. Richard got one shot out before, his weapon was pushed aside and he was shoved against a cabinet. In the struggling blur he saw Smaug in the room beyond, standing tall and foreboding, eyes sharp and bright with fury. His mouth twisted into a horrible smile.

 _“Guys?”_ Adam spluttered through the comms, _“Guys, please, can you hear me?”_

Richard tried to speak but the guard holding him back had his hand around his throat.

_“Guys? I- I don’t…What do I do? What do I do?”_

Richard tried to break free but his vision was beginning to blur and he was losing the strength to…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry about how messy this chapter is...I hope it reads okay. And sorry about the lack of Lee/Thranduil; He'll be back soon, I promise. I'd hoped to update the story every Friday but lmao that isn't working so...I'll just try my best to keep it roughly weekly/fortnightly.
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think about this chapter. I'd been struggling with the action scenes but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you are too.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What in Eru’s name has he got himself into now?” Lee demanded._
> 
> _Mithrandir gave him an exasperated look, “Everything went exactly to plan.”_
> 
> _“Oh? What do you need me for then?”_

Ever since the incident with Azog Lee had taken to carrying his sword, concealed within a golf-bag, with him everywhere. It was lucky too because when he got the call all he had to do was grab it and run out the door. Ori had sent a car to pick him up. One of the dwarves, Dori he believed, was at the wheel. The back door flung open to reveal Mithrandir.

“What in Eru’s name has he got himself into now?” Lee demanded.

Mithrandir gave him an exasperated look, “Everything went exactly to plan.”

“Oh? What do you need me for then?”

They sped away from the curb and Lee could see that Mithrandir was having a difficult time coming up with a response.  
 “We did not expect it to be this difficult,” he said eventually, “Bilbo is…do you remember I explained that we needed the Arkenstone? Bilbo is having difficulty with the safe the stone is kept in and so am I.”

Lee sighed, “Can you put me on the comms?”

“Only when we are in range,” Mithrandir replied, “This may help you, though.”

Lee looked over as the wizard handed him his phone. On the screen was a photo of the safe, with unmistakable elvish symbols.

“Quenya,” Mithrandir explained, watching him carefully.

“And you expect me to be able to understand this?”

“Do you?”

Lee pursed his lips, “I may have studied it in the years since we last met,” he admitted reluctantly, and did not miss the smile Mithrandir tried to hide from him.

It took him some time to remember exactly what each rune meant but by the time he had deciphered them they had reached their destination and Lee was still at a loss as to how to open the safe.

Lee hooked a comm ear-piece into his ear, “Bilbo?” 

_“Thranduil?”_

“Yes, I’m…here to help,” he replied hesitantly.

_“You can read these runes?”_

“I can read them…” he answered, before frowning, “I’m having difficulty interpreting them, though.”

_“What do they say?”_

“Uh…” Lee took a deep breath, “Half-way up the hill, I see thee at last,” he began to read allowed, “…lying beneath me…with thy sounds and sights.” Lee frowned, “A city in the twilight, dim and vast, with smoking roofs,” Lee paused, trying to remember the last bit, and when he had “…soft bells, and gleaming lights,” he finished.

Almost instantly came Bilbo’s happy response, _“It’s a riddle.”_

Lee turned to Mithrandir and gave him a questioning look before fingering his comm, “Is that good?”

 _“Brilliant!”_ Bilbo laughed, _“Give me a moment.”_ And then he began mumbling, and Lee heard Bilbo run over the lines he’d recited to him again and again. Surprisingly, barely five minutes had passed before Bilbo came up with an answer, _“The past!”_ he exclaimed, _“The answer is the past.”_

Mithrandir sent Lee an impressed smirk as if to say _‘I told you he could be useful’._

 _“Nothing’s happening,”_ Bilbo announced.

“You have to speak it in Quenya,” Lee explained, “Which is…vanwië.”

_“Vanwee?”_

“Vahn-way-ee,” Lee corrected, “Stress the ‘w’.”

Bilbo repeated the word and Lee and Mithrandir waited in anticipation.

_“It worked!”_

Lee grinned, and Mithrandir clapped a hand on Lee’s shoulder, “Fantastic work,” he praised the both of them, “Now it’s our turn.”

 _“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”_ an anxious voice asked over the comms, it was unmistakably Adam’s, _“What is Bilbo doing?”_

"Don't worry," Mithrandir assured the boy, "Bilbo is only doing what I have asked of him."

_"What do you mean? What is he doing?"_

"All will be explained. At the moment, though, there are more pressing matters.”

They got out of the car to find a man, obviously once-dwarf, waiting for them.

“You’ll need this,” he said, holding up a backpack.

Lee took it and peaked inside, “Thanks.”

“We’ll get them out of this mess,” Mithrandir promised.

The man gave them both an unsure smile before wishing them good luck.

Then Mithrandir turned to Lee, “I’ll make a nuisance of myself in the foyer, while you make your way to Bilbo.”

“Understood,” Lee replied, taking his sword from the car and hiding it in the folds of his coat as he hooked the backpack on his other shoulder.  

They walked into the dragon’s den shoulder to shoulder, and then went their separate ways, Mithrandir heading for the front desk, and Lee making his way around the room, to slip out into the back corridors unnoticed. As soon as Mithrandir began ranting loudly, Lee swept down the hallway. He disappeared into the crook of a doorway as several guards, who had heard the shouting, came running to see what was going on. When they’d passed he ran.

He’d almost made it to the lift when he bumped into a familiar face. For a moment the man’s name escaped him. Then he remembered.

“Hey,” He smiled, “Uh…Dave.”

The Security Guard frowned at him, “Weren’t you-”

But he didn’t have time to finish the revelation before Lee had shoved him, head first, against the wall. The man crumbled to the floor, “Sorry about that,” he winced, “I really didn’t want to-”

He was just about to hide the body when someone rounded the corne, “What the hell?”

He ran the length of the hallway, taking the stairs instead of the lift. At least that way the guards wouldn’t know which floor he was going to…if he was quick enough. He reached the second floor before he gave up in running and took the lift the rest of the way. By then he hadn’t run into anymore guards. Though, they’d be on the look-out for him now.

“Bilbo?” Lee asked through the comms once he’d arrived on the correct level, “Where are you?”

_“Down the hall, first right, door marked as **‘no entry authorised persons only’**.”_

He didn’t need to ask Bilbo how he’d known where to look. He could feel it like it was pulling at him, like it was attempting to draw magic from him. Mithrandir would have felt it too.

When he entered Bilbo spun on the spot, poised to attack, though he had nothing to attack with. He relaxed when he saw who it was.

“There’s another lock,” he said, without greeting him, “I didn’t want to worry you while you were heading up but…”

"Let me have a look at it.” 

He knelt beside the wall where white plaster met worn grey stone. The blue runes carved into it shone out of the rock face glared at Lee. He could feel it more strongly up this close; the pulling sensation. It wanted his magic. He could feel it attempting to suck at it. He didn’t let it. He could tell almost immediately that this locking system was very different to the last. The runes that were carved into it glowed brighter as he approached. He knew what he had to do. He didn’t like it.

"It wants to draw magic from me," Lee said, eventually.

"What will happen if you let it?" Bilbo asked.

“It _should_ open.”

Lee noticed Bilbo looking at the door unsurely, “Well?” he asked, turning back to him.

Lee grimaced. He didn’t know how much it would need. He didn’t know how much he would have left. But Richard needed him, and Thorin needed him. After they retrieved the Arkenstone they could save Richard and then Thorin would remember and he’d understand and he’d be safe…and he’d be furious at Lee and he’d hate him but…

He was getting ahead of himself. He needed to get the Arkenstone first.

He held out his hands, palms up, and placed them carefully on the stone wall. The runes glowed brighter, and then even brighter still, to the point Lee found himself squinting. He felt the shiver run through his body as his energy waned, as his concentration wavered. He felt his glamour shift and then fall away altogether.

Then there was a crack. Dust billowed up into the air as the wall gave way. Bilbo pulled at the thick stone door and there lay the Arkenstone, shining brilliant blue and purple and gold all at once. It was both beautiful and terrifying.

When he looked up Bilbo was staring at him. “What?” Lee demanded.

“I just…” Bilbo swallowed, “Keep forgetting you’re him- I mean.” He ran a hand through his hair, “That you’re…”

Lee gritted his teeth, “Get the Arkenstone and carry the bag,” he ordered, ignoring Bilbo’s words, “I may need to use my sword to defend us.”

Bilbo nodded, and reached into the wall to take the stone.

It didn’t escape Lee that the riddles had been carefully chosen by Smaug, either as a mockery of the dwarves second-coming and his part in their new lives or an ironic expression meant solely for Smaug’s amusement. Whatever was the answer it left Lee restless and irritated. He'd have lied if he’d said he’d missed this. He hadn’t. He hated it. He hated the anxiety boiling in his stomach, rising and threatening to choke him. He hated the quick thinking and second guessing. He hated the heat and hastiness and peril that he recognised from long ago.

Despite that he had no intention of turning his back on Thorin now.

Lee closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. The runes had taken a lot of his magic, and what was left in his veins was running frighteningly thin. A couple years, he guessed, that was how long it might last…a mere blink in the life of an…

By the time Bilbo had turned back, Lee’s glamour had returned. It made the shorter man pause for a moment.

“Ori we have it,” Lee declared.

 _“Have what?”_ the boy demanded, _“What the hell is going on! You know Thorin is in big trouble right!”_

“We’re on our way.” Bilbo answered. 

Lee adjusted the grip on his sword, “You ready?”

“I guess so.”

 _“The guards you managed to shake earlier are heading your way.”_ Ori explained, _“You need to hurry!”_

“We’ll make it,” Lee replied.

And they did, though they were both breathless when they arrived. Lee could hear Smaug’s voice through the door, even in human form it was unmistakable. Lee’s throat constricted in instantaneous fury. He wanted nothing more than to walk in, to punch Smaug across the face, to choke him, torture him, to make him understand that this wasn’t fair, that he had no right to do this to Thorin…He felt every muscle in his body tense. His mind was screaming for him to attack. For him to stop fleeing. And Eru did he want to. He wanted to prove it to Thorin too.

Bilbo must have guessed his train of thought because suddenly he found a hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him back with little strength.

“Grab out the black cylinder for me,” Bilbo ordered. 

The command reminded Lee what they were really here for, and he relented, doing as he was told.

“We’ll need the gasmasks too.”

Bilbo took the cylinder from him as he pulled his mask on. He watched as Bilbo flicked open a latch and opened the door, throwing the object inside. There was a bang and hiss. Smoke filled the room and they ran in. It wasn’t easy finding Richard and the others in the smoke but they managed and when they had them, they guided them from the murkiness.

Richard was bleary eyed, and coughing violently when Lee pulled him aside, “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice muffled by the mask.

Richard blinked, “Who?”

His lip was torn and by the way he was doubled over Lee suspected he’d taken quite a beating. Lee pulled the mask from his face and tried to smile, “Hi.”

Richard swore, “How’d-” he coughed, “You find-”

“Never mind that,” Lee replied, pulled Richard to his feet, “We have to get out of here, before-”

But it was too late. Three guards loomed ahead, and they weren’t like the others. These had oddly-orcish-shaped swords hooked into their belts, which they quickly drew at the sight of his own blade. He let go of Richard, who took to leaning against the wall once more, and squinting worriedly through his obviously stinging eyes. Bilbo hung back with the others, and Lee was vaguely aware of the rushed explanation he was giving to James. Lee didn’t even bother concentrating on his actual words; there were more important things on his mind.

The men approached and Lee swung his sword in a slow, threatening arc. But before they could get too close or even understand what was going on he rushed forwards and took a long swipe at the first man, dodged the guard’s blade and managed to slice into his thigh, before swinging him with his hand, and using him as a shield against the second guard’s attack. An orc blade sliced across his bullet-proof vest, tearing it but not hitting flesh. Then as the third guard stepped forward, lured closer by Lee’s supposedly unprotected rear, he swung his sword, and thrust backwards without looking, lodging his blade deep into the guard’s abdomen.

He didn’t look back to see the blade’s damage as he pulled out, and instead swung at the attacker in front of him once more, dodged another advance, though barely, sliced into the unharmed thigh of the first assailant and shoved him against the other. Then he skewered them both with a final plunge.

“Fucking hell,” James blurted.

Lee extracted his blade from the dead guardsmen and spun on the spot, “Ori, lifts or stairs?” he exclaimed.

_“Guards are coming up the stairs but the lifts are all being guarded.”_

“Stairs then.” 

Lee stepped forward and hauled Richard back onto his feet, “Come on.”

“How-” Richard coughed, “Lee?”

Lee didn’t answer him, and punched every lift button as they ran for the stairs. Bilbo took the rear as Lee took the front. There were gun shots, and not all from Bilbo but they managed to escape most of it. But as they reached the landing of the final floor and were about to scramble out onto the roof there was a crackle through the comms.

 _“There’s men on the roof!”_ Adam exclaimed, _“They must have been sent up there as soon as Smaug found out you were in the building. I’m sorry- I didn’t-”_

 _Eru,_ they were flanked on both sides. Lee bit his lip.

 _“No worries!”_ a deep Scottish voice informed them through the comms, _“Balin and I’ve got ‘em in our sights. Hang on as long as ye’ can.”_

There was the sound of soft _pfft pfft_ ’s as, no doubt, rounds upon rounds of bullets rained across the rooftop. There were only a few shouts from behind the door before the bullet-sounds ceased and the guards ascending the stairs were almost upon them.

_“Okay, ye’ good to go!”_

They emptied out onto the rooftop, stumbling over the fallen bodies.

Lee pushed Richard forward, before rushing back to the stairs, “Go, I’ll distract them.”

“Lee!” Richard growled.

“The zip-line and gun’s gone!” Lee heard James shout.

“In the backpack!” Bilbo exclaimed.

Lee’s hand met the door’s handle, and he turned to meet Richard’s eyes, “Go!” he exclaimed.

“Lee please,” Richard begged.

“I don’t know how to use this bloody thing!!” James exclaimed, “Guys?”

"I can barely see."

Lee paused. There were shouts reverberating from behind the door. He could save them some time but… 

_Eru be damned,_ this was going to be close. He spun on the spot, ran forwards and took the zip-line gun, which looked vaguely similar to a crossbow, aimed for the top floor of his hotel and fired. Just as the metal arrow lodged itself into the cement just above the window the door behind them flung open and guards began to pile out. Bilbo began firing upon them as Lee handed the zip-line gun back to James, who began to fix it to the wall.

Lee ran forward, passed Richard who’d ducked behind a large air-vent. He swung his sword forward but it was no match against bullets, and he staggered as one lodged itself into his shoulder. He managed to recover and swung across the neck of the first guard, then hooked his hand into the man’s bullet-proof vest, and ran forwards, using him as a shield and battering ram to unsteady the next man.

Lee watched, from out of the corner of his eye, as the others, one by one, took to the zip-line. He heard the window to his hotel smash, and winced, as he got an elbow to his side. Bilbo, remained for a moment longer, firing into the men advancing on Lee. They dropped and Lee ran.

“Go! Go!” he shouted.

Bilbo took to the zip-line and Lee should have waited a little longer but he didn’t have time. Bullets rained above him, and he looked up to see the glint of a sniper’s sight catching the light, and then he was hooking himself onto the zip-line, stepping off the building and flying through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look I finally updated...cries...why did this take me so long...This chapter gave me a lot of grief and I’m not quite happy with it but…here it is. It needs a lot of revision but I don’t really have time at the moment so I’ll fix it when I can. To make matters worse uni has started again so I have even less time now. WHY.
> 
> Couple things...I ran through about five different quenya dictionaries and pronunciation sheets for the word ‘vanwië’ = past (noun) and, while I'm 99% sure it does mean 'past', I can’t promise that pronunciation is correct. Also I’m pretty sure a zip-line doesn’t work like this lmao…I’ll probably come back and fix that bit once I can actually find some helpful information on it, dammit.
> 
> So sorry! I worked on chapter 14 a bit while I was stuck on chapter 13 so...at least that won't take as long. I'll update asap!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Richard looked between them, “You two seem to know something I don’t…I don’t know what you were doing but it wasn’t part of the plan.”_
> 
> _Bilbo nodded, “You’re correct.”_
> 
> _“I want an explanation, and you _will_ give me one,” Richard demanded.  
> _

It took about two hours for Lee to stop shaking with adrenaline. In those two hours he attempted to help patch everyone up but his inability to sit still made him counter-productive. The quite deaf, grey-haired man, who was working on stitching James up, was forced to tell Lee as much. So instead he called Mithrandir, made sure he hadn’t been captured by Smaug’s men or whatnot. As usual the wizard seemed to have escaped much of the action, and explained that he was unharmed; that he shouldn’t worry. 

Lee promised he hadn’t been.

If anything he worried about their safety. They were no longer at his hotel. It was compromised. Smaug knew where they’d come from and where they’d gone. So, instead they’d ended up at one of the dwarves’ ‘safe house’s. The name gave Lee little comfort. The safe house was a small, closed-down shop. Newspaper was stuck like patch-work over the windows, masking the view outside, masking them from the people outside. It had the bare essentials, and Lee guessed, that’s all they needed at the moment.

“Even if Smaug knows where we are,” James informed Lee, “He’ll be too worried concerned with the virus’ I left behind for him,” he grinned, “They’ll be purging his system. I bet he’s got some of his best working on countering them.”

“But they won’t be good enough,” Bilbo grinned, taking James’ hand, unsubtly.

James bit his lip, and hid a smile.

Lee couldn’t help smiling too. They were sweet.

“Good work,” he praised.

James grinned, “And even better!” He exclaimed, “I think we actually got something. Really!”

Bilbo laughed, “God, he’ll be furious.”

Lee laughed, and looked up. He automatically looked for Richard, as if he wanted to share this moment with him too but when he found him, Richard stared with a cold, untrusting gaze. Lee frowned, gritted his teeth and looked away. He’d forgotten how they’d ended it the last time. He’d forgotten Richard distrusted him…well it wouldn’t be the first time.

When one of the dwarves beckoned James away from the table, Lee gave Bilbo a meaningful look.

“What?”

Lee leant forwards, “Richard hasn’t stopped staring at me.”

Bilbo frowned, “Well,” he said, “You did just kill a bunch of people with a bloomin’ sword.”

Lee frowned, “Well, yes, but…”

Bilbo shrugged and leant back, pouring them both a cup of tea, “He’ll come around.”

“Not for a while,” Lee answered, eyeing Bilbo’s bulging pocket, where the Arkenstone lay.

Bilbo set the teapot down, “I know,” he said softly, sympathetically, “It will only get worse before it gets better.”

Lee nodded, and for the first time since he’d re-met Bilbo, he felt as if the halfling trusted him and cared how he felt.

“I’d prefer not to be here when that happens,” Lee said.

“He’ll come looking for you either way. At least here we can stop him from trying to kill you.”

Lee sighed, “That’s reassuring,” he said, leaning against his hand. 

He wanted desperately to convince Bilbo to find another course of action. Though, even if they did leave Richard like this, who was to say it would be for the better? Who was to say that Smaug or Azog would not use this against him. Richard had been shocked enough when Lee had pulled out his sword and attacked Azog and Smaug’s men, but he’d recovered quickly. They wouldn’t always be that lucky. One day Richard was going to be caught off guard. Lee knew in that moment that he’d rather have Thorin back than let Richard get hurt, or worse…die.

“I’ll stay then,” Lee replied, “When are you going to do it?”

“In a moment,” Bilbo said, unhurriedly.

Lee nodded, and made the mistake of looking up. Richard caught his gaze once more. He didn’t look angry or wary, like before though, simply speculative. After a moment he got up, and without breaking their eye contact, walked towards their table. Lee sat up straighter, feeling his heart flutter in his chest in trepidation. Bilbo saw him stiffen and looked up, himself, his hand creeping into his pocket in a calmly, casual manner.

Lee gritted his teeth.

“You have to understand how this must look,” Richard didn’t waist any time in getting to the point, “I wasn’t sure whether I could trust you. Even with what Mr Grey and Adam found…or what they didn’t find…” Richard looked between them, “You two seem to know something I don’t…I don’t know what you were doing but it wasn’t part of the plan.”

Bilbo nodded, “You’re correct.”

“I want an explanation, and you _will_ give me one,” Richard demanded, “But first…” his voice softened and he looked down, “I must explain my actions to you, Lee…incase yours are as innocent as you claim.”

Lee frowned.

“Good things usually don’t happen to me,” Richard explained, “And to have someone with means and skills to just turn up on my doorstep willing and able to help is just…too good to be true. I couldn’t be sure…”

Bilbo looked between them, purposefully, remaining as quite and as still as possible, though that was hardly difficult as he’d always had an uncanny knack for disappearing into the background.

“I understand,” Lee responded, “It must be difficult-”

“I’d like to trust you,” Richard replied, cutting him off, “You’ve helped us a lot but over the years I’ve learnt that it’s better to be safe than sorry…your actions today and before, both of yours,” he looked between them again, “Have me questioning whether I really know who it is I’ve given my trust to.”

Lee saw Bilbo wilt at that, and he was sure the once-hobbit was remembering a time long ago when he had betrayed Thorin for his and his people’s own good.

“Giving someone the benefit of the doubt isn’t a luxury I can afford,” Richard continued, “I can’t help being cautious, and I hope both of you can understand that.”

“I believe we do, Richard,” Lee answered, “I do. You don’t need to apologise, or…anything,” he swallowed. Eru he couldn’t take this anymore. He stood up from the table, “Martin’s found something he thought might be of use to us.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, and looked up at him unsurely. Lee simply gave him a nod.

Richard looked between them, looking cautious.

“It was why I did what I did,” Bilbo explained, before taking the stone out of his pocket and laying it on the table. 

They both turned to watch Richard. As soon as the stone was out his demeanour changed slowly. I His worried forehead unknit, and his cheeks drooped into a relaxed expression as he stared. He was transfixed by the stone, eyes vacant and unreadable. He reached over and picked the stone up. Lee held his breath. 

“It’s…” He tilted his head, studying it, “Beautiful…”

“Richard?”

Richard’s eyes shot up to meet his, and they were cold, calculating…there were questions behind those ice-blue eyes but the gaze…was not one that belonged to Thorin.

“This is why you to jeopardised our mission?” Richard demanded all of a sudden, the spell broken, “For a stone?”

Bilbo sighed, exasperatedly, just as Lee sighed in relief. They shared a look.

“What the hell is going on?” Richard demanded.

Bilbo pushed out his chair and stood, “Mr Grey and I suspected that Smaug wouldn’t have anything we could use against him so there was a backup plan…” the lie tripped off his tongue quickly and easily, almost too-staged, and Lee was sure Richard would pick up on it, “We’d heard of this precious gem that Smaug loved above all else…it is the _only_ thing which can sway him.”

Richard looked down at it again, and his eyes were blank, “This…stone?”

Lee couldn’t help feeling nervous at the sight…He was hoping to Eru that the dwarf-sickness couldn’t still hold power over Richard.

Richard looked up again, “You think we can swap our freedom for this stone?” he asked.

“Or buy new identities and insure our safety from Smaug,” Bilbo answered. “You could build that jewellery shop you always wanted…”

Richard grimaced.

This was not going to work. Lee’d already tried that card with Richard, and Bilbo had said himself that the man was too stubborn. This wasn’t going to work. He’d never give up on hunting Smaug down, on getting his revenge.

Richard shook his head, “It won’t be that easy. He’ll never stop looking for us…not while we have this,” then he shoved it into Bilbo’s hands, “We’ll discuss this later,” and he walked off.

Bilbo turned to Lee and grimaced, “Well,” he said, “That was our last hope.”

Lee frowned, “Maybe he’s not meant to remember.”

“I wish he would…” Bilbo collapsed into his chair, “That, or he gave up.”

“I’ll have a talk with him,” he said, following Richard out to the empty back-room.

He found Richard sitting by himself at a rickety-looking table, with his head in his hands. He looked wretched…

“Are you alright?”

Richard didn’t look at him, “No.”

“Headache?”

Richard gave a nod, and massaged his head, “I haven’t had a good sleep in a long while, and this is just…too exhausting.” 

Richard shivered, and tried to hide it by adjusting himself in his seat but Lee had seen it. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Can I help?”

“I think you’ve done enough!” Richard snapped, and then dropped his head into his hands once more, “I’m sorry…I…I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he muttered, “I feel like I’m going insane.”

Lee rubbed his back, “You’re not,” he said, “Things are just…not going to plan. We’ll get through it.”

Richard’s hand snaked up to take Lee’s, and he looked up at him, his eyes glassy, “Please, don’t be working for Smaug,” he begged, his voice shaking, “I don’t think…I don’t think I could take…”

Lee frowned, “Come on,” he said, pulling Richard to his feet, “You’re over-tired. Let’s get you home.” He paused, “Is your house secure?”

“It should be,” Richard replied, “Your’s isn’t.”

“I’ll get a hotel or something.”

Lee stepped back into the main room to tell Bilbo where they were going, and then they slipped out the back. They caught a taxi to Richard’s place, and Lee helped him up the stairs. The poor man was exhausted. 

The unit-block was very run-down compared to his own. There was the strong smell of cat urine in the air and each landing was covered in rubbish. They reached Richard’s landing and Lee waited patiently as he fumbled for his keys and unlocked his front door. Richard’s place was fairly cluttered, with books and pens and tools on about every surface. It was also dark and dingy, with the curtains pulled across the windows in what looked like their permanent position. But it wasn’t dirty. 

Lee made them both a cup of tea hoping it might calm Richard down a little but when he placed it in front of Richard he was still in upset and dazed. He looked lost in his own thoughts.

“What are you concentrating so hard on?” he asked him softly.

Richard looked up, “On trying not to think,” he replied, taking a sip from his cup.

Lee leant against the wall of the dining room and looked about Richard’s apartment. If he had to describe it he would say it was like a cave. The thought made him smile.

“What?” Richard asked, catching the action.

“Nothing,” Lee mumbled into his cup.

Richard stood, his eyes a little brighter, “No, tell me, what made you smile?”

Lee laughed, ”It’s just your apartment.”

Richard squinted at him, “What about my apartment?” he asked.

“It’s very you,” Lee responded.

“I’ll have you know!” Richard snapped, feigning offence, “That I have been very busy and that on a normal day it would be quite a lot neater!”

Lee smiled at him, “Sure.”

Richard raised an eyebrow as he stood. He gently prised the cup from Lee’s grasp and placed it on the table, before planting his hands on the wall, either side of Lee’s face.

“Are you calling me a liar Lee Greenwood?” he growled.

Lee looked away, and tried not to laugh, “Yes,” he said softly, before looking back and meeting Richard’s blue eyes, “I think I am.” 

The cheeky glint in Richard’s eyes is what made Lee lean forwards in that instant and capture Richard’s lips in his own. He put all his energy into that kiss, his anger and his frustration with Richard and at their situation, his fear for the man’s life, his anxiety for what Smaug might do to him, his god-awfully, crippling relief that he was safe…that he was still Richard…that he still didn’t remember that he hated Lee…that Thorin might never return. Maybe, this was how things were meant to be, maybe Lee could forget he was ever Thranduil just like Richard had forgotten he was Thorin…Maybe, they could be happy?

He felt his heart skip a beat as Richard’s hands cupped his face and he pressed himself against him. One of Richard’s hands was in his hair, pulling, and his other had landed on his hip, gently holding him against the wall. Richard bit at his lip, and their tongues slid passed one another. Lee sucked Richard’s tongue into his mouth, felt Thorin thrust against him. He moved with Thorin, pressed himself against Thorin, wanted nothing more than to be with Thorin forever.

“Aran nîn,” Thranduil murmured. (My King.)

“Mahal…” Thorin breathed, “Thranduil, uzbadu men.” (My Lord.)

When the word finally caught up to him, Lee’s heart exploded into a panicked frenzy and he shoved Richard away. Richard stumbled and hit the table, his eyes wide and confused.

Lee was shaking. He’d heard that correctly…he’d…Richard had…Eru be damned this wasn’t going to work. They couldn’t make this work…Richard was Thorin and Thorin would remember…Oh Eru he couldn’t breathe.

“Lee?” Richard asked, worriedly, stepping forward, “Are you okay?”

Lee held a hand up, keeping him at a distance, “What…” he spluttered, “What did you just…just say?” he demanded, breathless.

“I…” Richard frowned, and looked away as if trying to remember, “I…” he bit his lip and looked up at Lee with complete sincerity, “I don’t know,” he said, “I…Lee?”

Lee searched his eyes, trying to look for an inkling of deception or memory…some sign that he did in fact remember but there was none.

“Okay,” Lee responded, “…I’m sorry…I…I don’t know if I can…” he trailed off.

Richard nodded, “Yeah,” he said, “I understand…we’re both tired…we can…”

“Discuss this in the morning,” Lee responded, fixing up his collar and heading for the hall.

Richard grabbed his arm before he could leave, “Will you stay?” he asked.

Lee frowned, “I shouldn’t…”

“Please…” Richard begged, “Stay. I don’t want…” he looked down, “I don’t want you out there…alone.”

Lee saw the uncertainty in Richard’s eyes and wondered if this was what Richard meant about going insane…perhaps he was beginning to notice things, perhaps he was remembering things…perhaps Thorin was on his way to returning after all.

“Okay,” Lee said, unable to leave Richard in his vulnerable state, “But I’m taking the couch.”

Richard gave a small smile and nodded, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t have time to go over this chapter and check for spelling mistakes and grammatical errors so I’m sorry. I just wanted to get it up and start working on the next one, which will hopefully be ready by next Friday. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment, thank you.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He wasn’t sure why but he had the feeling he’d forgotten something…something important. There was a heaviness behind his eyes, like his brain had inflated while he’d slept. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not uncover anything out of the ordinary. He no longer had to pick Fili and Kili up, he hadn’t promised to ring Dis or any of his men, no…no he couldn’t think what it was he was supposed to remember…_

A marble man dressed in silver, enveloped in an ocean of golden warriors, looked over a barren, desolate land, where a people, bleeding, ragged, and ruined, ran for their lives. Thorin cried out for the man’s help, even while knowing his words would be drowned out in the clash of metal, in the cries of his people, and in the thundering from within the mountain. The elf seemed unfazed by the sight before him and did not, as Thorin had hoped, descend the cliff to aid his people. Instead, with cruel elegance, Thranduil turned his back on them.

He woke with a jolt and stared at the ceiling for a long time before he realised he was in his apartment in London, England, and not in his chamber in Erebor, Middle Earth. It was a familiar feeling to wake up to but when he sat up and moved to get out of bed he paused. He wasn’t sure why but he had the feeling he’d forgotten something…something important. There was a heaviness behind his eyes, like his brain had inflated while he’d slept. But no matter how hard he tried he could not uncover anything out of the ordinary. He no longer had to pick Fili and Kili up, he hadn’t promised to ring Dis or any of his men, no…no he couldn’t think what it was he was supposed to remember…

Richard sighed, and decided it didn’t matter all that much whether he remembered or not. It was probably an insignificant thing any way. He headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He hoped that Lee was awake because he’d never been very graceful, nor quiet in the kitchen, and if not awake yet Lee soon would be. Richard heard the fumbling clink of dishes even before he’d entered the room. He leant against the doorframe, watching Lee struggle to carry several plates to the table. He saw Richard and smiled.

“How did you sleep?” 

One of the plates fell to the kitchen table with a clatter.

At the sharp sound a flare of colour dashed across Richard’s vision, and the heaviness in the back of his mind exploded into searing shards. Flashes of his dream came back to him, of the elf…of blond hair and blue eyes and pointed ears and white skin. He winced, blinked, and tried to focus on where he was…on…on his home, on Erebor… _no_ …on his flat…

“Richard?”

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, trying to make the pain disappear, trying to make sense of his thoughts. The sharp shards of thought and memory were tearing through barriers he hand’t known existed, they were tearing apart his mind. He was a king- no a soldier…he…he had a kingdom, a company of thirteen dwarves, one hobbit and one wizard, he was at war, he-

“Richard?”

He _recognised_ that voice.

Thorin opened his eyes and stared at the elf. He couldn’t understand why Thranduil was there, in his flat- in his flat? He’d been helping- no that was Lee but…Lee was… What in Middle Earth- No. It was the twenty-first century. _Mahal,_ his head felt like it was on fire, and Thranduil was standing right there. What had he done to him? It was his fault, right? What was going on? 

He remembered being Richard…but he remembered being Thorin. It was like he had lived two lives…it was like he had been two different people. It was not like the dream…this was real. He felt every remembered-battle scar, and Khuzdul word. He felt disoriented, and Thranduil was standing in front of him with a look- a look of concern? 

The elf’s eyes grew fearful in understanding. He seemed poised to run, as if he knew Thorin was angry, and _good Mahal_ was he angry. But he couldn’t move. Thorin remembered the last time his mind was so addled, the last time he was frozen in the time before an attack. It was in Mirkwood, and he had his bow aimed at a strange, white stag. Bilbo had called it bad luck to shoot one. Thorin wondered if this was his bad luck finally catching up to him.

Then something in Thorin’s look must have snapped Thranduil out of his daze because he dropped the rest of the plates, and ran. The clatter in his wake awoke Thorin’s muscles, though he still had to consciously demand them to move, consciously tell his body to _go, run, follow._

Thranduil was fast, but Thorin knew the building. He wasn’t sure exactly how but he knew he’d lived in it for a long time. When Thranduil began down the staircase Thorin continued on to the next one, taking the steps two at a time, and making it to the bottom before waiting against the wall.

Thorin heard the elf approach at a quick run. He rounded the corner, cutting Thranduil off and punched him in the face. Thranduil went down with a grunt.

“What in _Mahal_ ’s name is going on?” he demanded.

Thranduil pressed a hand to his his jaw, and winced, “Thorin?” he swallowed, “I can explain…I’m sorry- You died and-”

“And now I’m back,” he exclaimed, searching through his twisted, confusing memories. 

He remembered going to war with guns instead of swords. He remembered coming home. He remembered running, and hiding, and lying…he remembered Bilbo and Gandalf…or was it…Martin and Mr Grey? He remembered a café, and meeting Lee and going out to lunch with him and…

“You fucking manipulated me!” Thorin growled.

“I didn’t mean too!” Thranduil answered, shaking his head.

“Uhran!” (Liar!)

“I had no idea it was you at the start!”

“And when you did, you proceeded to fucking court me?” Thorin demanded, “You fucking rukhsul (orc) asshole! You saw me vulnerable and weak and you took advantage of me? Was this to fucking mock me?”

“No, it wasn’t! Thorin I…when I realised it was you…I- I thought you remembered, I thought you might have forgive me-”

“Forgiven you?” Thorin scoffed, outraged.

Thranduil flinched.

Memory after memory were coming back to Thorin; of the distant past, and of the more recent past. There was a line forming, between the two lives he’d lead, and he was beginning to see everything more clearly…he remembered spending time with Thranduil…or Lee? He remembered holding the elf’s hand and he remembered the kiss-

“Were you taunting me this whole time?” Thorin demanded, “Did you know what I was going through? How in Mahal’s name can you be such a prick? You preached trust and forgiveness but all you did was lie and manipulate. Menu shirumund!” (You are cowardly/dishonourable!) 

“I didn’t- I never wanted to hurt you, or manipulate you…” Thranduil rose to his feet shakily, hand outstretched, imploring him to listen, “Please, Thorin.”

“You let me _DATE_ you?” Thorin growled, clenching his hands into fists, “I brought you flowers! I knew you elves were cruel but…this- this is just sick.”

“Thorin, please let me-“

“NO!” Thorin yelled, shoving Thranduil back from him, “You don’t get to explain!” He snarled, “When my people were in trouble you looked the other way, shukel! (coward of all cowards!) Then you used me? You…” he grimaced, “You pretended to like me, to get me to trust you, to open up to you…I don’t know what you want but you’re not getting it.”

“I didn’t want anything!” Thranduil shouted back, “I liked Richard- I liked spending time with you…but I knew how you would hate this…” Thranduil looked away, “It’s why I kept stopping your advances-”

“His!” Thorin interrupted, furiously, “His advances, not mine. If I’d known who you were this never would have happened.”

“Thorin I don’t-”

“Shut up! _You_ lied to me. Why should I listen to you, now?”

“No!” Thranduil answered, “I didn’t- _Eru,_ I didn’t want- I didn’t know if you’d return. I thought…”

“You thought wrong!”

“You damned dwarf!” Thranduil growled, “You weren’t remembering. We tried. I tried to get you to remember. Nothing was working! In the end I thought…” he deflated, his eyes pleading Thorin to understand, “Do you know what I went through?”

“Do you know what my people went through?”

Thranduil shrunk back at that.

Thorin turned his back on him, and walked away. 

He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and when he found himself at a bookshop and Martin was the one to answer the door he almost cried out. It was as if simultaneously he was Richard, who had only just seen Martin the day before, and Thorin, who hadn’t seen Bilbo since that deadfall day on the battlefield. He didn’t know why he expected him to be here, at this bookshop, but there he was…

He had the urge to pull the shorter man into a crushing embrace. Instead he smiled politely, greeted him, and tried to wrap his head around all the changes as he was invited in for tea. Once they were seated on the couch silence took over. It was only after Martin noticed his anxiety that Thorin began to feel the illusion slip, shift, and shudder before his eyes, and he realised he would have to face the facts head on or deny them altogether.

“Are you okay, Richard?” Martin asked him.

“No, not really. I’ve…” he paused, unsure what to say…he felt exhausted, and he supposed it wasn’t only because of his shouting match with the stupid elf lord. His head still pounded rhythmically.

Martin was waiting for an answer, and all that came to Thorin was…

“I’ve been having weird dreams,” he said with a shrug, “Ones in which…uh…this is going to sound strange,” he winced, wondering if he could backtrack and leave this conversation to another time, “I’m a warrior…and you’re…my companion…and we go on this journey and…is any of this sounding familiar?”

And the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“Excuse me?” Martin asked.

“I mean…” Thorin tried again, “Uh…Have you had this dream?”

Martin smiled in amusement and looked down at the cup in his hands, “Why would you think we might share the same dream, Richard?” he asked.

He wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well because…”

“What makes you think I’d dream about some fantastical adventure,” Martin met his gaze, “…in which we tried to save a devastated kingdom?”

“I- wait,” Thorin searched the man’s face, feeling as if he were being tested, “I never said anything about a kingdom…that needed saving.”

“Oh,” Martin shrugged, “Well, I assumed.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. He stood up, pushing stray locks out of his eyes, and hooking them behind his ears.

“Hypothetically,” he began, “If you were to assume more from the dream…how many would you expect to embark on such an adventure?”

Martin laughed, in what Thorin would have said - if he were reading the situation correctly - feigned jest, “Thirteen,” he answered, placing his own teacup on the table and standing to meet Thorin. 

Thorin paused, “Thirteen?” he asked, feeling his shoulders sag even as he did so.

Martin met his wandering gaze, “Thirteen, not including the thief and the wizard.”

Thorin knew in that moment that he was speaking to Bilbo and not Martin, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face even as morbid memories rose to the surface, “Your thievery was justified in the end,” he grinned.

Bilbo let out a choked noise as his eyes began to water, “It didn’t stop you from being killed.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo bit his lower lip, “Thorin, it’s…it’s good to-”

He took two steps forward and pulled Bilbo into a hug, cradling his friend’s shuddering form as the smaller man wept apologies into his shoulder. 

“It is good to have you back, Thorin.”

Thorin let Bilbo go and frowned, “It is weird to be back, like this…with everything being so…” he made a face, “The twenty-first century…?”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Who else remembers?” he asked.

“Gandalf of course, Balin, Dwalin,” Bilbo shrugged, “I think Bofur and Ori are coming around soon, and then there’s…” he grimaced, “Fili and Kili remember…”

Thorin froze, “The boys remember?”

“Yes.”

“Mahal…I,” he turned from Bilbo, “I shouldn’t have…that was my fault…they wouldn’t have… _fuck. Mahal…_ ”

“Thorin,” Bilbo placed a hand on his arm, “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I could have left them at home with their mother,” Thorin growled, “That was my fault.”

“No it wasn’t,” Bilbo answered, angrily, “If you had left them at home another of the company may have died in their place. My friend, it was not your fault,” he shook his head, “I lived a long time after your death…I grew old as the world went to war, as those I knew fought and died. There was a battle in the Shire, even; if you can believe it…” Bilbo sighed, “Thorin, evil spreads everywhere, takes all it can carry and eliminates the rest. Great men, elves, dwarves, ents, hobbits fought and died to defend their homes and protect their loved ones. FIli and Kili were young but really when are you ever old enough to die? You and they fought for what you believed in and you won.”

Thorin shook his head, “But we didn’t…Smaug is back.”

“And now so are you,” Bilbo smiled, “So let’s win again.”

Thorin gave a shaky laugh, “You give speeches like an old man, my friend.”

“Well I’m almost your age now,” Bilbo answered, “There’s over hundred and seventy-four years of wisdom in this head of mine.”

“Almost my age?” Thorin laughed, taking a moment to calculate the numbers in his head, “Two-Hundred and thirty-eight over here.”

Bilbo made a face, “I forgot how long you dwarves lived for.”

“Not a dwarf any longer…”

“No, well none of us are who we once were…” Bilbo answered, and then paused, “Except Gandalf…” he rolled his eyes, “Gandalf is as cryptic and sneaky as ever.”

He laughed, “I won’t argue with you there.”

Bilbo smiled, and then looked away for a moment as if thinking about something.

“What is it?”

“Thorin…” Bilbo licked his lips, “About Thranduil-”

“Don’t!” Thorin growled, “We’re not going there.”

“You’ll have to deal with it eventually,” Bilbo answered.

“Why?” Thorin demanded, “He manipulated me…and frankly…I don’t know why I’m not also mad at you for letting him…”

“It wasn’t like that…” Bilbo answered with a sigh, “And if you’d only stop and properly think about the last few weeks…you’d see it too…”

Thorin grimaced, “I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for...I hope it lives up to expectations. I had meant to post this on Friday but things came up so here it is, a day late. oops. I was a bit nervous about posting this chapter because I wasn't quite sure how to write it. Oh well, lots more feels to come, I assure you. 
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of it all! Thank you!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Perhaps it was too soon to confront him but if not now, then he might never do it. Lee took a deep breath, grabbed a tight hold of his glamour and stepped out of the shadows._
> 
> _“Thorin?”_
> 
> _The sharp glare that met him could have sliced him in half if he hadn’t been ready for it._

Lee felt jittery as he waited. He felt warm as well, too warm for such a crisp night. But his nerves were thrumming under his skin and refusing to allow the cold in. He was having to concentrate a lot of his energy on keeping his glamour in place. He’d noticed how much harder it had become after the Smaug incident with the safe. But he’d still been able to control it after that without having to focus…It was ever after Thorin had returned that Lee had started to feel the real strain of it. Now he could feel his glamour slipping, like a cloak hanging precariously on his shoulders that would, but hadn’t yet, fallen. One false move and it might. It was tiring to hold it up. But necessary. He was not Thranduil; he was Lee and Lee was human.

But no matter how hard he tried to believe it, he knew it was no use. He remembered too much, and all that he remembered was hell. He wished he could forget. How easy life would be if he could. Now that Thorin knew everything there was nothing left for him to worry about. He didn’t have to protect Thorin. He didn’t have to be Thranduil. He could go back to his baking and forget he’d ever met Richard or Thorin…If only he could forget. He wouldn’t, though, and so he had to face it all head on. 

He didn’t know if Thorin was going to return to his flat that night but it was worth the effort to wait just incase. He needed to explain himself. He needed a chance to make Thorin understand. It was all he had left to do, and if Thorin wouldn’t listen then he would go; he would turn his back and he would walk away. He might move into the country, somewhere quieter, somewhere he could drop his glamour more regularly. It would be a nice change. He hadn’t lived in the country for several lifetimes. Maybe that was what he needed.

It was ten o’clock and Lee was about to give up when he glimpsed Thorin beneath the lamp light, walking toward the car-park. He had his head downcast, his long curly hair tied up in a messy bun, and his hands stuffed into his leather jacket. He was walking purposefully, back rigid and shoulders tight with stress.

Perhaps it was too soon to confront him but if not now, then he might never do it. Lee took a deep breath, grabbed a tight hold of his glamour and stepped out of the shadows.

“Thorin?”

The sharp glare that met him could have sliced him in half if he hadn’t been ready for it. 

“Stay away from me,” Thorin growled.

Lee took a deep breath, “Thorin please, just let me explain.”

He kept on walking.

“I’m not that elf anymore. I’ve changed. I’m-”

Thorin spun on the spot, “I know what you are trying to do,” he jabbed a finger at him, “You’re trying to pretend that the past never happened. Maybe you regret what you did…and maybe you don’t,” he shook his head, “But don’t pretend you’re human because you’re not.”

Lee looked away, unsure how to respond. He was Lee. He was…He had helped Richard- Thorin…he’d helped him as Lee, and he’d been Lee for a long time. That was his name now. It was who he was. But…he could feel the glamour stretched tight across his skin, and the mask’s name was Lee. He’d been hiding for so long. Perhaps, it would be for the better if he dropped that mask…perhaps - but no. He couldn’t. He was Lee. He was Lee. He _was_ Lee. How could he make Thorin understand that?

He gritted his teeth, “I do regret…” he muttered, and his words seemed so inadequate.

He had changed. How could he explain that? How could he make Thorin see?

“I can’t know if you’re telling the truth.” Thorin scoffed, “I don’t know you well enough. All I have to go on is my memories, and they’re telling me that to trust you would be a mistake.”

Lee nodded, “I understand that -”

“Then leave me alone!”

“Thorin…I just…” Lee trailed off, and stared back at the cold gaze Thorin had fixed upon him, “I just want to talk about this. Discuss it. Let me explain. _Please._ ”

“No, I don’t want your explanations!”

“Then what do you want from me, Thorin?” Lee begged, frustration boiling under his skin, “Have I not given you enough?” 

“You haven’t given me anything!”

Lee clenched his hands into fists, “Have I not worked these past months with you?” he demanded, “Amongst your people? Assuring you when you were hesitant, comforting you when you were confused, going on missions for you and with you, fighting by your side? Have I not been a friend?”

“That wasn’t friendship!” Thorin hissed back.

“Then what was it?” Lee asked, a sad, unbelieving laugh flying from his lips. He felt sick.

Thorin did not answer.

Lee felt cold inside, colder, sharper, angrier than he had been in a long while. It was almost liberating, if it didn’t make him also feel so sick. He felt like his old self. But he didn’t want to feel that way. He knew what this was all about. It didn’t matter to Thorin what he’d done for him in the past few months. What mattered to him was the distant past…

“So many of my people have died in useless battles and wars,” he spat, feeling his old self slip between his lips, “I could not lead them into another, knowing there was no chance at success. It was useless trying.”

“Useless?” Thorin demanded, “You _ugrad!_ (coward) You _shukel!_ (coward of all cowards) Do you _know_ how many of my people died because of you?” he snarled, “Just because you didn’t want to fight did not mean you couldn’t help us.”

“I was scared!” Lee admitted.

“And as a result many of my people died!” Thorin shouted back, “Do you think it was Smaug who caused their deaths?” he demanded, “Many died weeks after the flight from Erebor…from wounds received in the escape, from infection, pneumonia, dehydration, starvation,” he sneered, “Things your kindness and shelter would have prevented, rukhs!” (orc)

“The past is the past!” Lee insisted, “We make difficult choices, and we have to live with the consequences of those decisions.” 

Thorin was fuming but Lee had not finished. He had to make him understand.

“If people get hurt along the way we ask for forgiveness, it’s the best anyone can do!”

Thorin leapt at him, punching him across the face.

Lee doubled over to cradle his cheek, before grabbing a hold of Thorin’s jacket and throwing a punch of his own. Thorin grunted at the pain but pulled Lee forward by his shirt and attempted to throw him to the ground.

He felt it more than heard it, his shirt ripping, his glamour tearing apart-

He landed on the gravel, and lay their for a moment attempting to concentrate on re-establishing his glamour. He didn’t want Thorin to see him like this. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find it. Tears of frustration were welling up in his eyes. Usually there was a soft buzz, a feeling of an invisible veil that he could pull around him. But he couldn’t find it. He felt lost, vulnerable.

“Get up!” Thorin growled.

Thranduil did, though slowly and unsurely. He felt Thorin’s eyes on him as he did so, he expected confusion would be knit into the other man’s brows but he didn’t look up to see it.

“What in Mahal’s name…?”

It was only then that Thranduil realised his shirt was half-open. He was frozen in place. It was too late to pull the torn parts together and conceal what Thorin had already seen. He’d been so preoccupied on his fallen glamour…that he’d forgotten that it was not only his hair, and eyes and ears that needed hiding…

He looked up to see Thorin’s shocked expression as he stared at the countless scars, burns and marks littering Thranduil’s chest, “I thought elves could heal most wounds?”

He felt sick, “Th-They can…” and he winced, having forgotten also that his voice was different in this form.

“Is this…” Thorin looked as if he wanted to ask something but didn’t know if he wanted the answer, “I saw something like this back in Mirkwood when you captured us…” he frowned, “When you became agitated your face…”

Thranduil closed his eyes and looked away, “You weren’t meant to see that…” and the scrutiny was suddenly too much for him to bear. He pulled his shirt together, trying to do up the buttons that hadn’t been torn off, “And you weren’t meant to see this…”

Then Thorin’s detached anger returned, “Taking a page from Gandalf’s book now?”

Thranduil turned his sad, hopeless gaze on Thorin and with it dared him to mock him further. He was too tired for this. Too tired to explain. If Thorin wouldn’t listen then there was no point in trying…

“Fine, be cryptic!” Thorin snapped, “Keep your secrets to yourself. Mahal knows you’ve taken most of mine…" He snarled, “Why not make a horde…”

Thorin was about to turn away when Thranduil cleared his throat, “Elves…scar differently to others…” 

He didn’t know why he told Thorin this. He just knew he had to. Maybe it was because this was all Thorin _would_ listen to.

“Physical wounds do not show on our skin…but emotional…” Thranduil felt naked and weak in that moment, and perhaps this was how Thorin had felt when he’d realised Thranduil had known all along who he was, while he hadn’t, “I have been in many wars, lost many people I…that I cared about. I used to be able to hide it,” he let the torn parts of his shirt fall from his hands, “But my magic is…failing.”

Thorin stared at him, his eyes trailing over all the scars with a look that was soft, or at least softer than any look Thranduil had seen upon him after his return. It was gone as quickly as it had come, though. 

His sharp eyes met Thranduil’s, and the cruel words flew from his mouth in a spitting hiss, “And when you left my people to die…did that leave a mark on you?”

Thranduil flinched, and his hand moved as if of its own accord. He found the jagged scar across his abdomen, just above his left hipbone, he touched it, and the skin was hot. It still burned and he could still hear the screams.

Thorin’s harsh gaze never left his face, “Leave.”

And Thranduil did. 

He turned his back on Thorin and began to walk away, through the darkness. He tried again to feel for his glamour but he couldn’t concentrate hard enough. His heart hammered in his chest painfully. He felt heavy, sick, detached and alone. He wondered how long it would be before his chest was more scars than skin. He wondered why he hadn’t gone to the undying lands. He wondered why his sadness hadn’t kill him already, like it had killed so many others of his kind. He wasn’t elf enough for that kindness, it seemed. 

But he wasn’t human enough, either.

He was nobody. He was nothing. A being caught between, always. Always between. Not wanted, nor needed. Hated and feared. Misunderstood. No, Thorin understood him well enough. Perhaps, this was a punishment. At the beginning he had thought it might have been…he was right, he thought. Eru had put Thorin in his midst as torture. He knew he deserved it.

It was one thing to place his enemy back on Earth to remind him of his faults…But it was another, far more devious kind of torture to let him fall in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the angst intensifies.
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter is so short but I couldn't think of a way that would lengthen it without ruining the result I wanted. I have a lot of assignments due these next few weeks so I'm not sure if I'll be uploading next Friday. I'll try to but I can't promise anything. Thank you all for the kind comments! I'm so pleased everyone is liking where this is going. Do continue to tell me what you think! As lovely as your comments are, constructive criticism is also, always welcome.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Now that he truly knew who Smaug was, Thorin knew what he needed to do. There was no point dancing around the idea, no point playing hide and seek with Smaug, no point damaging his systems with software, or ruining his chances in political matters. There was only one way to stop the dragon and it would be bloody and messy and he wasn’t sure he’d survive._

Thorin didn’t know what to think about Thranduil’s words, let along his scars. They’d appeared out of no where. Something had changed when he’d hit Thranduil. He’d gone from dull and broken to bright and shattered. It was like the human facade had lifted and Thorin was suddenly staring at the elf from long ago. What if what he’d seen was a glimpse of the real Thranduil? What if those scars - But no. It had to be an illusion. It was just another attempt from Thranduil to manipulate him. He was sure of it. It had to be. Thranduil would never let himself appear so vulnerable.

Thorin supposed he was lucky he had more important things to think about. Not lucky that these things were a personified dragon and orc, but lucky all the same; if he was given a choice between facing those monsters or a certain elf then he’d choose the monsters every time. He felt uneasy, and queasy. His muscles were tightly coiled, and he knew that at any moment they could spring like a jack-in-the-box. He’d often felt like this back in Erebor when he was young, when he’d had a disagreement with his brother or sister. He’d take up his wooden sword, the one he’d carved himself, and he’d find Dwalin or Balin and they’d pretend-fight until there was no energy left to make him feel jittery. His thoughts were running wild too. He knew he needed exertion, he needed to fight until there was no fight left in him. Of course, he could have gone to Dwalin or Balin; they remembered, and they knew what he was like in these sorts of moods but he didn’t want to think about the past, not like that, not with nostalgia. He couldn’t do that until those who’d wrought havoc and flame upon his Mountain home were no more. 

Now that he truly knew who Smaug was, Thorin knew what he needed to do. There was no point dancing around the idea, no point playing hide and seek with Smaug, no point damaging his systems with software, or ruining his chances in political matters. There was only one way to stop the dragon and it would be bloody and messy and he wasn’t sure he’d survive. It didn’t matter, either way, though, he would get his revenge, he would destroy Smaug. Then he would go after Azog, who would then have nowhere to hide and no-one to protect him.

Smaug might be a dragon at heart but he was human now, and Thorin knew he could handle one human. That’s why he was sitting in his apartment on his computer, which was equipped with Ori’s hacking software. It felt odd, to Thorin, to know how to use a computer or a phone or any other modern-day device. He had to pause for a moment, push back his memories of a time long ago, and pull back newer ones wherein he used devices such as these all the time. He remembered being Richard and that he’d taught Fili and Kili how to use a landline or mobile phone incase they had to call him or their mother because of an emergency.

He was searching through the news for any sign of Smaug and he came across several upcoming, public events that the dragon would be attending. A corporate building Smaug had donated a lot of money to - Thorin wondered how on Earth that would help Smaug’s cause…whatever his cause was - and Smaug was expected to attend the opening. It was probably an attempt to widen his influence if anything.

It would be highly unlikely that Azog would be anywhere near the event. If he were seen then the event’s security would go after him and leave Smaug undefended, which Thorin wouldn’t complain about. So, either Azog was present and would likely only add to the mission’s success or he was absent and so wouldn’t hinder it.

Thorin checked the surveillance cameras around and inside the office building, and was glad to see that there were many rooms he could hide in. The opening of the building was in three days so he had plenty of time to organise his plan. The gathering would likely have a strong security detachment, not to mention Smaug’s own guards, who’d be posted around the place. That meant he’d never manage to sneak a sniper-rifle in. No, he was going to have to draw Smaug out, to make him come looking for him. It was going to have to be quiet too. All his gun silencers were with Dwalin and Balin and they guarded them closely, so there was no way he was going to be able to get his hands on one without them noticing. That didn’t matter, though, there were quieter ways to kill a person.

First, he went to Bilbo’s bookshop, had tea with him to disguise his true purpose for being there, and took a photo of the Arkenstone. Then, he went to the office building, scouted out good areas to hide and hooked his software up to the surveillance cameras so that he could not only watch through them but also control them via his computer. Lastly, he got Smaug’s contact details from online and readied himself for the mission.

He slept in the building the night before the opening and woke early to triple check his equipment. Deep down he worried that what he was doing was reckless but he knew that when it came down to it, stealth would be better than brute-force, and that meant he’d have to go at it alone. When the festivities had begun and the cheering died down to a soft murmur Thorin took out his phone and sent the photo of the Arkenstone to Smaug along with the words ‘come alone or you’ll never see it again’. 

He knew Smaug would find his location by hacking into his phone, and he knew that his way out, if he succeeded, would be blocked with so many of Smaug’s people that Thorin would likely not live much longer than the dragon. The thought didn’t bother him. The only way to capture a dragon was to make it think it had captured you, after all, even if it were partly true.

Thorin placed his phone in the middle of the room, and knelt in the corner, watching the security feed on his laptop as he waited. After ten minutes he saw the front door to the building open. Smaug strode in, determined, hands clenched into fists as he walked. He had a phone in his hand, which he was using as a guide. He was alone and he walked the halls purposefully, looking up now and then at a security camera that had followed his movements with human-guided precision.

As Smaug approached his position he discarded his computer, and got to his feet. He pulled a cord of rope from his pocket, wrapped it around his hands and held tight. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears but he had his breathing under-control. He listened for approaching footsteps, heard them, readied himself to pounce, and at the sight of Smaug, coming through the doorway he ran forwards. 

He hooked the cord around the Smaug’s neck, felt the man’s shocked intake of breath as they both collapsed to the floor in their struggle. He pulled, and in the dim light Thorin watched as Smaug’s face contorted in rage, then fear; his breaths came out broken and harsh. Thorin pulled harder, snarled Khuzdul into the air, and knew in his heart that this would fix everything.

Smaug’s struggling was beginning to wane when suddenly Thorin felt the muzzle of a gun press into the back of his head. He froze.

“Let him go,” Azog ordered.

Thorin clenched his jaw. He had underestimated Azog’s stealth, and his conviction. He knew there was no way out. He either let Smaug go or he died along with the dragon. He’d died before for a purpose… _he could do it again._ He wondered if he might come back again, or if this was it, his second chance…Perhaps, he was meant to choose life over revenge. He snarled, at himself and at Azog. He could finish it right here, kill Smaug…but Azog would remain; Azog, who had killed Fili and Kili, who would no doubt go after them next. His grip on the cord slackened, and he let go.

“Good,” Azog commended, the gun lifting off the back of Thorin’s neck.

Smaug fell forward from his grip and gasping for air.

“Step to the side-”

Thorin spun on the spot, shoved Azog’s arm out of the way and kicked the man’s feet from underneath him. He scrambled to stand and ran out the door, springing down the hall. He saw men approaching ahead, and dipped through a side door. He believed they hadn’t seen him but he doubted it would take them very long to search each room. Thorin checked the window but he was a story up, and there was no safe way down. He wasn’t escaping out of the window then. He sighed, rubbed a hand across his mouth and realised with sudden clarity that he was going to be captured and there was very little he could do about it. He couldn’t fight his way out of this one.

Accepting his fate, he pulled out his phone and rang Bilbo. He waited for a minute or so as the call turned to voice-mail, and then he hung up. He called Gandalf, Balin, and then Dwalin, but their phones were all busy or turned off. He scrolled to the next person in his list, and outside he could hear the men’s voices. With logic ruling his brain for once Thorin called Thranduil.

He answered on the second ring.

“Thorin? I-”

“Shut up, elf!" Thorin growled, hurriedly, “I’m _only_ ringing you because _you_ owe me,” his eyes shot to the door as he heard the bang, “In a moment I’m going to be taken by Smaug’s men,” he said.

“Eru be damned!” Thranduil exclaimed, “You didn’t go after him alone, did you?”

Thorin ignored him and continued relaying orders, “Don’t hang up, listen to as much as you can, and take your phone to Gandalf. He’ll know what to do.”

“Thorin, I could have helped!“ 

The door slammed open, and Thorin had enough time to slip his phone into his inner pocket before he was slammed up agains the wall by one of Smaug’s men. His head hit the wall hard and he felt dizzy and off-balanced as he tried to fight back. One man grabbed him by the arms, while the other punched him across his jaw and he went out cold.

When he woke, he found himself bound and propped up against something hard. His jeans had ridden up slightly and the tiles underneath him were chilling to his ankles. His first moments were of discomfort; there was spiking pain around his wrists, and at his temple. He tried to sit up but it was difficult to concentrate with his thoughts being invaded by white light.

“He wakes!”

Thorin blinked, and squinted up at the speaker, who stepped out of the murkiness and revealed themselves to be Smaug. He smirked at him with sharp teeth.

“Well,” Smaug said, running a hand across his neck, “As much as I appreciate you caring enough to try and kill me,” he laughed, “It was a poor excuse of an attempt.”

“It wouldn’t have been if I’d succeeded,” Thorin sneered.

He looked about himself and frowned when he realised he was on the top floor of a high-rise building. It looked as if it were an apartment; an expensive, white and modern apartment.

“Indeed,” Smaug sighed, sarcastically, “What a shame.”

Azog was no where in sight, and Thorin worried where the man was. Azog was usually the torturer and his absence only meant one thing. Smaug wasn’t going to waist time torturing him; he was going to kill him.

“You know, once upon a time you were a great leader,” Smaug laughed, “Really, King material I hear. Unfortunately, I wasn’t there to see Azog skewer you on his sword.”

Thorin held his tongue and stared up at Smaug as the man paced casually.

“I wonder how much of this you understand. How little sense I’m making…”

“You’d be surprised,” Thorin replied.

Smaug’s eyes widened, “Oh, well isn’t this a pleasant surprise. Welcome back, Thorin Oakenshield. I had hoped you would return before the end. Richard was so dull… I couldn’t have killed him.”

Thorin scoffed, “Oh?”

Smaug smirked, “Well, yes I could have. I would have. But I’m glad it’ll be you, not him,” he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and flicked one out, offering the box to him.

He shook his head.

Smaug shrugged, “My only regret about the past was that I wasn’t the one to kill you. Though, Azog has told me wonderful stories, as I have for him,” he lit the cigarette and blew a cloud above him, “He’s absolutely fascinated with my descriptions of how you dwarves taste.”

“A shame there’s none left for you to taste now,” Thorin sneered.

Smaug nodded in agreement, “This world has changed a lot,” he said, nostalgically, “And I must say, while being human allows for so many luxuries,” he stepped forward, “I do miss being able to incinerate my enemies with a single breath…” he sucked on his cigarette deeply, before blowing smoke in Thorin’s face.

He coughed, and blinked through the stinging smoke.

“And flying,” Smaug added, “What I’d do to fly again. Not in those stupid human-contraptions but with my own wings. I miss it.”

“I’m sure it must be so very hard for you,” Thorin spat, sarcastically.

“I miss a lot from that time,” Smaug smirked. “You wouldn’t believe how many dwarves remained in that mountain, after you fled.” 

Thorin gritted his teeth.

“For a couple years I had my own larder,” he laughed.

“Bastard!” Thorin growled, struggling against his bindings, “If I get my hands on you- I’ll tear you to pieces!”

Smaug chuckled, “I don’t doubt that you’d tried,” he let out another breath of smoke. 

Thorin felt sick.

“You might remember everything,” Smaug added, “But you don’t know what is happening here, do you? You don’t understand how any of us have returned, or why we’ve returned like this.”

Thorin didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to talk but he knew he was going to have to eventually…plus, he really didn’t know what was going on and if Smaug was offering the information he might as well listen.

“How many of you have returned?”

Smaug’s eyes glinted, “Thousands of orcs, some goblins, a couple necromancers, a few balrogs…etcetera.” He grinned.

“No, you can’t be serious,” Thorin shook his head, “You’re making that up.”

“I’m not,” Smaug grinned, “I am only one in an army.”

“Then, who are you working for?” he demanded.

“The rightful ruler of this world,” Smaug spat, “Morgoth, my Lord and master.”

Thorin had heard very few stories of Morgoth. All he knew was that everything that was dark in their world was his creation, and that the almighty Eru was forced to banish him to the Void. When Gandalf spoke of him, he spoke in terror, and anything that scared Gandalf terrified Thorin.

“Morgoth is the strongest of the Ainur and he has returned us to this land to ready it for his second coming,” Smaug’s eyes shone with glee.

That couldn’t be right. Why had he and his people been returned? “He brought _me_ back to life?”

Smaug scoffed, “Oh no,” he rolled his eyes, “ _You_ are Eru Illuvitar’s pathetic attempt at meddling with Morgoth’s plans.”

“What-”

There was a bang. Thorin looked up to see Bilbo step through the door. Thorin’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened in hope. Bilbo had come to save him! Thorin was about to yell for him to watch out but…Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes, and grimaced. He dropped his gun to the floor and slowly raised his hands above his head.

Azog stepped out from the shadows behind him, holding a gun to his head, “Move along now,” he ordered.

Thorin closed his eyes and sighed. _Mahal,_ be damned the fucking bastards had them.

“Azog!” Smaug exclaimed, “Well done.”

Azog motioned for Bilbo to step forwards, and the smaller man did so, before he was ordered to kneel beside Thorin, whom he gave a weak smile too.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Thorin shook his head, “You shouldn’t have come.”

Bilbo smiled, “I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Thorin gritted his teeth. This was Thranduil’s fault. Thranduil had rung Bilbo and he’d left him to go alone. Thorin wondered, with disgust, if Thranduil had done it intentionally, or had just been too much of a coward to go with him. It was probably the latter. He hadn’t changed one bit! He was still the coward he’d been all those damned years ago. The fucking coward had let Bilbo go alone. If Thorin survived this he was going to wring the damned elve’s neck.

“Now that we’re all here,” Smaug put his cigarette out on the marble table-top, “Let’s continue our little chat. Where were we?”

“Eru Illuvitar’s pathetic attempt-”

“Ah yes!” Smaug interrupted with glee, “Morgoth wove his Discord into the Ainur’s Great Music, bringing shadow to this land. All that was created by Eru to combat it became tainted with it: Evles and Men and many other creations of Illuvitar.”

Bilbo turned to Thorin and frowned. Thorin shook his head, he didn’t know what was going on, either.

“However, the _dwarves_ ,” Smaug spat, “Were created by Mahal after the Discord, and so the Discord didn’t touch them. But Morgoth wouldn’t leave you untainted, so he cursed your gold, and wormed his way into your hearts and your minds, driving you to greed and insanity.”

“What are you getting at, worm?” he demanded, growing very quickly tired and impatient.

If Smaug was going to kill him why didn’t he just get it over with. He was sick of this talking, and this arrogance.

Smaug made a face, “You are untainted by the Discord," he said, finally getting to the point. “You were created after it, and you are immune to the curses Morgoth put on your people because you are no longer a dwarf.”

“What?”

“Eru seemed to think you could make a difference,” Smaug scoffed, “The _“Great One”_ must be losing his touch…”

“Wait you’re saying that Eru brought Thorin and me back from the dead?” Bilbo asked.

Smaug turned to his companion with disgust, “Well to be perfectly fair with you I don’t know why he brought _you_ back.”

“Enough!” Thorin snapped, “If you are going to kill me, do it! I might die here but you will be stopped. My people won’t let you live.”

Smaug shook his head, “You still don’t understand,” he sighed, making an exasperated face, “This is larger than you and me and our feud. Before me chaos rained and after me chaos will rain again,” he leant forward, golden eyes, searching his face predatorily as if looking for fear. “I am in charge of but one stage in Morgoth’s great plan, and I have played my role… _spectacularly._ ” he smirked, “All I have left to do is to kill you and your family. But even then, if I do not succeed old age will take you,” Smaug laughed, “Your death at my hand, is more for my pleasure than anything.”

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?” Thorin sneered.

Smaug leant back, giving a curt nod, before flipping open his suit jacket and pulling out a gun, “Tell me where the Arkenstone is?” he asked, pointing it at his face.

Thorin held firm.

Smaug raised an eyebrow, “If you do not tell me, I will have Azog shoot your friend.”

Thorin gritted his teeth.

“Thorin, don’t tell him,” Bilbo said quickly.

Azog whacked Bilbo across the back of his head with the gun. Bilbo grunted as he doubled over. Then Azog’s gun was back on his neck.

“What do you want with it?” Thorin asked.

Smaug shook his head, ”Uh ah,” he sung, “You either tell me or Azog kills him.”

Thorin breathed in slowly.

“One of you will tell me or the other one will die.”

Thorin’s eyes shot to meet Bilbo’s. His friend smiled at him, and Thorin saw hope dwindle in those grey eyes. His hands were clammy and he gave them one last tug to see if he could pull them free. No luck. They were going to die. He sucked in a breath. They weren’t going to make it out of this one. Mahal, he was going to die.

Smaug cocked his gun, aimed it at Thorin’s head and-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Urgh I had a bad week...so many assignments and then family trouble. Why does everything always happen at the same time? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. When I upload the next one I'll be uploading the second video for the series. I'll leave a link in the chapter notes for you. Please leave a comment and tell me what you think. Thank you! :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mithrandir took Thranduil to the side, “Your glamour?”_
> 
> _Thranduil winced, “I know. It’s getting harder. I…” he sighed, “I’m just worried.”_
> 
> _“I can see that.”_
> 
> _“I don’t know why he was alone,” Thranduil shook his head, “That good for nothing, idiot. _Why_ is he so stubborn? He didn’t have to ask for _my_ help…but someone, Bilbo or Dwalin or Balin…they could have helped him…”_

Lee’s heart was thundering in his chest. He could hardly breathe with the anxiety bubbling there. As soon as Thorin had explained what was going to happen to him Lee’s only-just-re-established glamour fell again; though, this time Thranduil had little energy left to give a damn. He pushed his blond hair across his ears as much as possible and grabbed a pair of sunglasses. Then he rang Mithrandir. When the wizard didn’t answer Thranduil went out to go find him or someone who could help.

He went to Bilbo’s bookshop, where they’d met after their first attempt to hack into Smaug’s system. Bilbo wasn’t there but Mithrandir was. He was in the midst of pointing out a mistake in Adam’s homework when Thranduil burst in, ignoring the closed sign when he’d found the door unlocked.

“Thorin’s been captured!” he exclaimed, breathlessly.

Adam gave him a confused once over, as if noticing the slight changes in his appearance but wondering whether or not he should point them out. Mithrandir hardly looked surprised when he turned to meet Thranduil’s gaze but what he saw there…that, made him suddenly grow uneasy.

“What?” Mithrandir demanded.

“I don’t know what happened. But he rang me. He said Smaug’s men were about to capture him,” he explained, “I left the phone on but they hardly said anything useful. Just that they were taking him to one of Smaug’s safe-houses; one that would be safe from sniper range. Then they found out he had his phone on him and…” he trailed off.

Mithrandir lay a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder, “We’ll get him back,” and he took the phone from Thranduil and threw it to Adam, “Find out where the call ended, and see what you can do with finding Smaug’s safe-houses.”

“Got it!” Adam cried, grabbing for his laptop and shoving his school papers out of the way.

Mithrandir took Thranduil to the side, “Your glamour?”

Thranduil winced, “I know. It’s getting harder. I…” he sighed, “I’m just worried.”

“I can see that.”

“I don’t know why he was alone,” Thranduil shook his head, “That good for nothing, idiot. _Why_ is he so stubborn? He didn’t have to ask for _my_ help…but someone, Bilbo or Dwalin or Balin…they could have helped him…”

“I don’t know,” Mithrandir frowned, “But we should contact Bilbo, and explain what is happening.”

Thranduil nodded, “When Ori’s done with my phone, I’ll-”

“Use mine,” Mithrandir offered, “We’ve changed our phone numbers anyway. You wouldn’t have Bilbo’s new one.”

Thranduil took the phone and called Bilbo.

“Hi Gandalf, what can I do for-”

“Bilbo, it’s…it’s me. Thorin’s in trouble.”

“What?” Bilbo demanded, “What’s he done now?”

“Smaug’s got him. We’re still finding out wher-”

“Got it!” Adam supplied, “He’s on the top-floor of an apartment block across London.”

“Did I just hear Ori say he got the address?” Bilbo asked, “Give it to me.”

Thranduil relayed the address to him without so much as a second thought.

“I’m five minutes from there,” Bilbo answered.

“Don’t get too close,” Thranduil warned him, “We’ll meet you close by and go in together.”

Mithrandir nodded in approval.

“We don’t know what they’ve planned for Thorin,” Bilbo complained, “I’ve got a gun and I’m a surprisingly good shot. Better than I was with a sword.”

“No, you don’t know-”

But Bilbo had already hung up. Thranduil gave Mithrandir a worried look. The wizard looked grim, and then contemplative.

“We may need everyone,” he said, eventually, “But I don’t like the idea of Bilbo going in there alone. I’ll get the others, you go straight there,” Mithrandir instructed, “But do not engage them unless you need to.”

“Okay,” he said, in agreement.    
He was glad he’d brought his sword with him. He was about to leave when Mithrandir called his name. Thranduil turned and caught the gun that was thrown at him.

“Ever used one?”

“I’m better with a sword.”

“Take it, anyway.”

Thranduil nodded, and flew out the door. He tried calling Bilbo one last time as he waited in the cab but the man didn’t answer. Thranduil was left to worry. He pulled at his hair, nervously, wondering if his ears were at all inconspicuous and kept his sunglasses on the tip of his nose so that he could see in the dim-light of the cab, but could hide his bright eyes in a moment.

He arrived twenty minutes later and stared up at the tall, white, expensive-looking apartment block in front of him. He wondered how much of it Smaug had secured, and he hoped he wasn’t too late. The building was almost empty, surprisingly; though, perhaps that was because Smaug suspected he wouldn’t be found. There were a couple of guards here and there but Thranduil slipped passed them easily.

He crept through the corridors silently, with his gun out and his sword in a golf bag hooked over his shoulder. He reached the lift quickly and easily, and removed his sword from its bag as the lift ascended. He’d fired guns on countless battlefields but he still preferred his sword. But he didn’t know what he was going up against and it was better to take a long-range weapon than to rely completely on getting close enough to use his sword.

When he reached the landing of the top floor he cautiously checked the coast was clear before walking the hall and trying to listen for any noises. Behind each door there was silence and Thranduil had to wonder if Smaug had bought the entire floor or if the rooms were coincidentally vacant. He reached the end of the hallway and was about to lose hope when he heard muffled voices behind the last doorway. He approached quietly and checked the handle. Of course, it was locked. He bit his lip. He was never very good with all this undercover, spy-kind of stuff but he knew he couldn’t exactly kick the door down without alerting anyone to his presence. There was nothing for it, it seemed. He sighed, placed his sword down on the floor and flexed his hand, trying to calm his thoughts and focus on pulling at what magic he had left. He felt his magic, tingling faintly in the air around him. He felt his heart skip a beat and he grew breathless with anxiety, losing his concentration with the realisation that his magic hadn’t just thinned, it had torn.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart, telling himself it didn’t matter, that it was inevitable, that he at least had enough left to do this if he concentrated. He hoped to Eru that Thorin wasn’t hurt because there was no way he had enough to heal a gun-shot wound let alone a paper-cut. He focused on thinking about Thorin, on wanting, needing to help him. He pulled at the torn pieces of his magic, and guided a strand toward the metal contraption. He put his hand over the lock and concentrated on trying to feel the mechanism’s parts. He clenched his jaw with the effort, and then he heard a _click_. He checked the handle, and the door opened quietly. 

He picked up his sword and stepped inside, trying not to think about what little remained of his magic. There was no way he was going to be able to use his glamour again, and he suspected that he’d only be able to use his magic two or three more times. He shook the thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. He had more important things to think about. What did it matter how he looked? His past had well and truly taken over his life once more, and the only person who Thranduil hadn’t wanted to see how he looked, already had, and…hated him…

There was a short hallway, that opened up into rooms on either side of him. He checked them, quietly, for guards but there were none, and he could hear the voices coming from behind the last door, which was left ajar. He stepped forwards quietly, listening to what was being said.

“Thorin, don’t tell him,” Thranduil heard Bilbo implore.

There was a loud _thwak_ that followed, which made Thranduil wince.

“What do you want with it?” Thorin asked.

“Uh ah,” Smaug answered, “You either tell me or Azog kills him.”

Thranduil hurried his approach, feeling breathless and anxious.

“One of you will tell me or the other one will die.”

He peaked through the door and saw Thorin and Bilbo kneeling on the floor. Azog had a gun aimed at Bilbo’s head and Smaug…Smaug cocked his gun, aimed it at Thorin’s head and-

Thranduil stepped through the door, aimed his weapon at Smaug, fired and swept into the room, as Bilbo shoved Azog’s gun-hand away from his own head. Smaug hit the floor with a smack and lay there, unmoving. Thranduil barely had enough time to check on either man before he had his gun aimed at Azog.

“It’s over,” he snarled, “Lower your gun.”

He indicated to Azog’s weapon-hand which wasn’t aimed at anyone but was raised all the same. The only reason Thranduil didn’t shoot him right then and there was because he wanted to know more about what was going on and he suspected Thorin would too. Thranduil swung his sword arm in a threatening arc to indicate that he wasn’t messing about but Azog simply met his harsh gaze.

“It will never be over,” he snapped, and before Thranduil could react Azog had shot himself in the head.

Thranduil watched, wide-eyed with shock, as the once-orc crumbled to the floor. Thorin, who had stepped forward in an attempt to snatch the gun out of Azog’s hand, had only succeeded in getting splattered with the man’s blood. Thranduil was breathless. He could have done something. Shit, if only he’d…he could have…

He swallowed and turned to Thorin, “I’m…sorry…”

Thorin didn’t meet his gaze, “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, touching his blood-splattered cheek and looking disgusted, “They wouldn’t have told us where any of the others were.”

“Or why they needed the Arkenstone,” Bilbo added.

Thorin sighed, “I have a feeling that whether or not we like it. We’ll find out eventually. If there are others…I don’t doubt they’ll find us.”

Thranduil frowned, “Others?”

“They’re working for Morgoth,” Bilbo explained, “This was all an elaborate plan to ready the world for his return.”

“What?” Thranduil froze.

That couldn’t be right. He couldn’t return. Yes, there were stories but they were just that, stories. They were meant to scare children into doing their homework or eating their dinner. It wasn’t meant to actually happen. If Morgoth returned there would be nothing they could do. Everything that his shadow touched would wilt and die. He wondered if anything would be spared, and hoped with all his heart that his son would be safe in the Undying Lands.

“We should get out of here,” Bilbo declared.

“Have a look around,” Thorin ordered, “I’m going to go find a bathroom and clean my face.”

 

Thranduil nodded, and wondered if Thorin were angry with him for what he’d done. He looked down at the two dead bodies and shivered when he found a pair of golden eyes, and a pair of grey staring up at him. He gritted his teeth, thankful that the two were no more. If Thorin hated him for it, so be it but he couldn’t feel bad about killing them.

He searched the apartment along with Bilbo, wearing gloves that Bilbo found for them so that it wouldn’t be too hard to clean the place of their prints. They pulled out many drawers and looked through many cupboards. There was hardly anything, and what was there wasn’t useful. Thranduil was about to give up when the last drawer he opened suddenly revealed something different. A key and a map. His eyes instantly recognised the dwarven smithing and decorations in the metal of the key, and the elvish runes on the map. He didn’t know why he did it but he stuffed the items into his jacket as quickly as possible and closed the drawer.

“Thranduil?”

He looked up, afraid that he’d been caught but Bilbo only looked concerned.

“You alright?”

He shrugged, “It depends…” he said, eyeing the hall Thorin had disappeared down, “Is he angry with me…because I intervened?”

Bilbo gave a laugh and smacked him lightly, on the arm, “You saved our lives. He’s not going to be mad at you.”

Thranduil wasn’t so sure.

“Go talk to him.”

Thranduil made a face at the shorter man but he simply received a raised eyebrow in return. Thranduil relented and went to find Thorin, himself. He knew that Thorin wasn’t going to be happy with him and he knew that they’d probably never stop fighting. It would probably be better, for both their sakes, if he left London and didn’t bump into Thorin again. There was a lot he wanted to say to Thorin but he wondered how much he could tell him, before it became _too much._ He wanted to say he’d miss Thorin…and Eru, it hurt to realise that he really would. He wanted to tell Thorin he was unbelievably sorry and that he never intended…but Thorin wouldn’t believe him so there was no point. He wanted to promise to be contactable, to be ready to jump to his- But Thorin would hate that. So he took a deep breath and he planned what he was going to say to the man.

Thranduil felt cold and shaky as he headed down the hall to say goodbye to Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I updated early for once, yay! And I've got a video for you all: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v91td5k5I-U
> 
> I hope you have liked the story so far! Thank you to everyone who has commented and told me what they thought. I really appreciate it! It's great to hear from readers. Thank you :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Is it even our fight?” Balin asked, looking about them all, “I don’t know about you but I think we’ve done enough.”_
> 
> _Bilbo nodded, “I agree with Balin,” he said, “We can’t be expected to run around killing Morgoth’s followers for the rest of our lives. We’re not immortal and we’re not young.”_
> 
> _Dwalin made a face, “Speak for yourself, laddie.”_

Thorin leant forward, dipping his hands into the cool water and splashing it over his face, rubbing the blood from his cheek, and avoiding his own cold, detached gaze in the mirror. Someone stepped into the doorway of the bathroom, blocking the stream of sunlight that had been shining into the room. Thorin knew, without looking, that it was Thranduil standing there.

“I’m…pleased that you’re alright,” Thranduil said.

He didn’t turn to look at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he saw his expression but he suspected that whatever he felt or wanted to express to the man, his lips would form words of cold words. He scrubbed at a bit of blood from his forehead.

“I’m sorry, Thorin,” the elf whispered, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get your revenge…” he sounded worried, “That I took that from you, too.”

Thorin grunted in response, unsure how else to respond. Thranduil had never taken anything…the problem was that he hadn’t given anything, but that was long ago. _Long ago._ Thorin splashed more water over his face, and began scrubbing through his beard.

“I’m not sorry that I killed him,” Thranduil admitted, and then after a long while, “I’m planning on leaving London and moving into the country. The city is too busy, loud…”

Thorin knew without a doubt that it wasn’t the only reason Thranduil was leaving.

“You won’t…” Thranduil looked away, “You shouldn’t see me again. And I won’t contact you.”

By the time Thorin had worked up enough courage to meet Thranduil’s gaze, the doorway was empty, and he was left alone to wonder why he felt so empty inside. Both Smaug and Azog were dead. He should be happy. He should feel free. But he felt confused, and lonely, and he felt unaccomplished, and he felt like he’d missed something important. It didn’t cross his mind that the feeling was associated with Thranduil. It wouldn’t be. Thranduil had helped but he was still that same, cold, selfless elf Thorin remembered. He was sure of it. _He had to be sure of it._

 

Before Thorin and Bilbo left the apartment block they had to eliminate all evidence of their presence there, and change a few things. Thorin rang Gandalf, who brought everything they would need and they set to work, and as they worked they explained everything to Gandalf.

There plan was simple. They wore gloves as they cleaned Thranduil’s gun and positioned it by Azog’s body. Then they rearranged Azog’s gun to lay beside Smaug’s body. That way it seemed as if the two had shot one another. To the keen observer and thorough investigator it would be revealed that they hadn’t but that’s where the company’s links with MI5 would come in handy; They would legitimise the crime-scene as Thorin and Bilbo devised it. Then there was the matter of giving evidence of Smaug’s involvement in nefarious affairs and his connection to Azog but that was easy. They’d retrieved all that thanks to James from their last encounter with Smaug. That way, to all intents and purposes, when it would appear that Smaug and Azog had fought over some business arrangement and had ended up killing one another. 

When Thorin and Bilbo had cleaned up, they cleared out. Then Gandalf called a meeting between those who remembered their past lives.

“You tell me we’re they are, and I’d take ‘em down,” Dwalin said, smacking a closed fist on the table in. 

Bilbo snorted.

Dwalin noticed the noise and sobered a little, “But we don’t know where they are, do we?”

Gandalf shook his head, “No we don’t-“

“Is it even our fight?” Balin asked, looking about them all, “I don’t know about you but I think we’ve done enough.”

Bilbo nodded, “I agree with Balin,” he said, “We can’t be expected to run around killing Morgoth’s followers for the rest of our lives. We’re not immortal and we’re not young.”

Dwalin made a face, “Speak for yourself, laddie.”

“We can’t be expected to put our family in danger, again,” Thorin contributed.

Balin sighed, and made a face, “What if we’re all that stands in the way of the end of the world?”

“No, there has to be another plan in place,” Bilbo remarked, “I highly doubt you’re Eru’s only plan. No, offence to you all,” he gestured about the table, “You’re all amazing warriors but you’re not exactly an army…And why would Eru send you all here without your memories…” he made a face, “And why am I here? I’m not a warrior?”

“I think, my friends,” Gandalf began, “That your goal was not to defeat anyone. I believe Eru returned you to this world with the choice of it. He is not a violent God, and he would not expect you to throw away your lives. It was always up to you whether or not you fought against Smaug, Azog or any other evil in this world.”

“You think it was a test?” Thorin asked, skeptically.

“Not just, but yes,” Gandalf responded.

Thorin shook his head, angered by the thought, “I refuse to be some God’s play-thing," he growled, “No matter how much he’s done for us. I’d rather fail the test than fight in a war we’d have little to no impact in. We are not toy soldiers." he looked away for a moment, “And I will not put Fili and Kili on the front-line again. I refuse.”

“I understand your reasoning,” the wizard said, “But I actually think that the only people who were meant to fight were those willing to fight. All of you are capable in different ways but I don’t think Eru intended you all to fight. I believe that Eru knew that those who didn’t would support you the others.” Gandalf looked contemplative for a moment, before adding, “I wonder if Eru also planned for Thranduil to help you.”

“And now you’re trying to tell me that it’s divine fate that the elf had an input in the dragon and orc’s demise?” Thorin demanded, “I don’t _believe_ this.”

Balin placed a warning hand on his shoulder, “Thorin…”

He refused to meet his gaze.

“What do you think we should do, then, Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, returning their conversation back to its main point.

Gandalf turned to him, “I believe you should all choose for yourselves. But take the week off, relax, and don’t think about the issue. It’s not going anywhere.”

Thorin noticed that Gandalf hadn’t said anything about himself, “And what will you do?” he asked.

“I plan to take a trip,” the wizard said, “Tomorrow I will set out to discover what I can about these others Smaug and Azog talked of. But in the meantime let us relax.”

They all yielded gladly to the order. Balin and Dwalin went into the courtyard at the back of the shop to spar and Gandalf and Bilbo sat down to talk and smoke over tea and biscuits. But Thorin, without any idea what to do with himself, ended up wandering about the shop, aimlessly, touching book covers or tracing words, but never pulling any out to read. After about half an hour of his pacing Bilbo called him over to join them. Nevertheless, Thorin was still feeling agitated. He held on for as long as he could but after a couple hours of sitting and drinking with Gandalf and Bilbo, and pretending like everything was right with the world, he snapped.

“Why did you let Thranduil help?” he demanded, “Why didn’t you stop me from…” he swallowed as his mind supplied memories of shared kisses, of feelings of want, of needing to pull Lee closer. He shook his head, “Befriending him?”

“Because it was what he needed.”

“And what about me?” he snapped.

“Thranduil had good intentions,” Bilbo stated, firmly, “He didn’t want to manipulate you, Thorin.” 

Thorin huffed a sigh, “And you know this for a fact?”

“He’s helped our cause greatly. If it weren’t for him I don’t think we would have succeeded,” Bilbo answered, “You and I would not have survived our last encounter with Smaug if it weren’t for Thranduil.”

“We would have found a way without him,” Thorin said, shaking his head, “Don’t pretend he made that much of a difference.”

“I think you’re underestimating the difference he did make,” Gandalf remarked, angrily.

“He is genuinely trying to make up for past mistakes,” Bilbo added, “But not only that, he cares about you.”

Thorin made a face, “Cares about me?”

“And…” Bilbo paused, “You were happy with him.”

“It wasn’t me!” Thorin growled, “It was…Richard, and he didn’t know any better.”

Gandalf shook his head, “Richard was you, a part of you.” 

“You were depressed for a long, _long_ time,” Bilbo said, softly, “If Smaug didn’t get to you, then I was afraid you were going to get to yourself.”

Thorin looked away, unable to disagree and yet unwilling to accept it as the truth. He would have held on. He wouldn’t have abandoned his family to Smaug. He was stronger than that. He knew he was stronger.

“He also helped us get back the Arkenstone,” Gandalf pointed out, “Knowing full-well that it might bring your memories to the surface. In fact he seemed intent on it.” 

Thorin gritted his teeth.

“He wanted to help you,” Gandalf added, “To save you, and I suspect also to punish himself.”

Thorin shook his head. No, no, the elf had to have an ulterior motive. There was no way he’d done that simply out of kindness. He refused to believe it. No one was that kind, and certainly not Thranduil. Everyone had a motive. His motive was family. Thranduil’s was…he didn’t know what it was yet but there had to be one.

“The Arkenstone was protected by a rune-lock, you know?” Bilbo announced, “Thranduil gave some of his magic away just to open it.”

Thorin swallowed. Had he really done that?

Gandalf grimaced, “Do you know what that’s like?” he asked, “To have a part of you sucked away? He was afraid of losing himself, before, and yet he did this…for you…”

It seemed like too much of a risk. Would Thranduil really have done that if he didn’t care about him? But no…no Thranduil didn’t care. He wanted something. He had to want _something._ But what if he didn’t? What if he actually…Thorin felt dizzy.

“Now, why on Earth would he do that, Thorin, if he didn’t care?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Thorin growled, “It was all fake. He was pretending.”

“Was he?” Gandalf asked.

“Yes!” Thorin snapped, before he let himself wonder about it, “And even if he weren’t…he has made too many mistakes. I…I can’t forgive him for what he’s done.” He knew he didn’t sound sure.

“For what he did thousands upon thousands of years ago?” Bilbo asked, “That’s ridiculous, Thorin,” he laughed, exasperatedly, “Of course _you_ would hold a grudge for that long.”

“For me, it wasn’t long at all!” Thorin reminded them.

“And for him?” Gandalf asked, “Do you know how long he’s had to think about this? Have you considered that he is no longer the same elf?”

Thorin was about to respond but Gandalf cut him off.

“You talk of the mistakes of elves but you forget those of your own kind,” he snapped, “Dwarves are the reason there were so many wars with Morgoth's demons. The dragons and balrogs you awoke in the dark because of your relentless greed and continuous digging were fought and held back by elves. They fought your battles more often than not. Thranduil has fought alongside dwarves long before you were born.”

Thorin frowned. That couldn’t be right.

“You both needed to settle your differences!” Gandalf exclaimed, “This has gone on long enough.” 

Thorin’s head was such a mess he didn’t know how he felt about anything. Damn his emotions for being confusing and treacherous, and damn his memories for being just as muddled and untrustworthy. What if Thranduil wasn’t lying about any of it? What if Thranduil did care about him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I meant to post this earlier but our internet's on the fritz. Also sorry! This chapter is a little boring but it'll get interesting soon I promise!
> 
> Several family members (including us) are moving next week so I won't have internet for while (because it's not getting organised/plugged in for a while), which means I'll have to use my universities internet. So forewarning, the update day is probably going to end up being Tuesdays instead of Fridays.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Uncle!” Fili and Kili cried in unison._
> 
> _Dis smirked, “They told me you were waiting outside like an idiot,” she cupped his face, “Don’t ever do that again, okay?”_
> 
> _For a moment he was confused, but then he realised she meant the situation with Smaug and Azog. He nodded.  
> _

Three days later the news about Smaug and Azog was broadcasted on TV. Bilbo and Thorin’s plan worked and as far as everyone knew the two had been working with one another before a disagreement had ended in their deaths. Soon afterwards Thorin was contacted and his team were taken off the wanted list, and paid compensation due to the Government and Military’s error.

Dis rang Thorin as soon as she saw the news, knowing that he had some hand in what had happened. She asked him to come and see her and the boys, and he agreed because he missed them. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t fearful of her reaction when he turned up on her doorstep. He hadn’t yet worked up the courage to knock on the door before it flung open and Dis pulled him forwards into an enveloping hug.

“Uncle!” Fili and Kili cried in unison.

Dis smirked, “They told me you were waiting outside like an idiot,” she cupped his face, “Don’t ever do that again, okay?”

For a moment he was confused, but then he realised she meant the situation with Smaug and Azog. He nodded.

“It’s all finished, now, isn’t it?” she asked him as she let him inside.

Fili and Kili ran down the hall, heading for their play room and shouting back over their shoulders that they had something to show him. He barely acknowledged them, his heart too swollen with relief.

“It is, yes,” he said, “They’re all safe. We’re safe. We won’t be hunted any longer.”

Dis smiled at him, “Good,” she said, “I can’t believe you were right…I’m sorry, I should have believed you…but to think Smaug was really heading that many criminal organisations.” she shook her head, “He seemed like such a nice man on television.” She paused, “I’m not condoning what you did but I understand why you did it, and…I’m glad. Though, I’m just not sure I like the idea that you were the one to do it.”

Thorin shook his head, “I didn’t…” he said, “It was…” he paused, “Someone else I knew, who did it…to save me.”

Dis frowned, “A friend?”

He frowned.

“Uncle!” Fili and Kili ran back down the hallway.

He grinned down at them, as Kili grabbed at his jean leg, “We’ve got something to show you, come on, come on!”

“They made something for you,” Dis smiled, “They missed you,” she gestured for him to follow them, “I’ll go make us some tea.”

When he entered their playroom he snorted. It was a complete mess of rainbow lego blocks and toy trucks and cars and soldiers. Thorin felt a surge of pride at the sight of a headless dragon toy discarded in the corner, gathering dust.

“Uncle!” Fili and Kili cried.

He turned to them, with a smile, and then noticed what they were pointing at. He blinked in confusion, and then awe. What ridiculous, persistent idiots, he thought fondly. They’d made a mountain out of lego, and while made of blocks of all different colours, and not the exact shape of Erebor, it was unmistakably the mountain, equipped with river, trees, large front door and two dwarven statues standing guard.

“Magnificent,” he breathed, proudly.

“Mommy helped!” Fili said, with a grin.

“Barely,” Kili added.

Fili slapped him, “More than you!”

“I helped!”

Thorin laughed, and knelt before the boys, “I love it,” he said, “You boys did well,” and his voice cracked, “You did- I could never be…” He looked away and his eyes were burning and his heart clenched in his chest, “I’m sorry,” he spluttered, looking up at them through the blur of uncontrollable tears.

Kili looked like he was going to cry, himself, and Fili was frowning. Thorin pulled them both forwards into a crushing embrace.

“I’m so proud of you,” he mumbled into their clothing.

“Richard!”

He wondered who Dis meant for a moment before he stood up and shook himself. He wiped his face with a hand, and ruffled each of the boy’s heads, giving them a smirk.

“I’ll go and talk with your mum for a little bit and then I’ll come play, okay?”

“Okay, Uncle Thorin!” Kili grinned.

His smile wavered but he maintained a rather spectacular poker face just long enough for the boys to turn their backs and run towards the Mountain of lego. He let out a sigh, and left the room.

“You look tired,” Dis remarked, as Thorin walked into the kitchen.

She handed him a cup as he nodded, “Not been getting much sleep.”

“Well…” Dis shrugged, “Now you’ll be able to,” she said, “Smaug’s gone. Azog’s gone. There’s nothing left to keep you up at night.

Thorin sighed. If only she knew.

“What?”

“It’s just…” 

He really didn’t want to talk about the damned elf but no one else was listening to him. He couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t. He’d always known Bilbo was the forgiving type but he hadn’t seen what the elf had done! He hadn’t seen any of it. Only heard about it. Gandalf, though? Gandalf should have understood…he should have taken his side…but then, perhaps he was…No, no, there was no way he was over-reacting.

Dis leant forward and took his hand, “Talk to me.”

“Okay,” he relented, and then paused to think how to explain the situation to her, “There was this soldier,” he began, “That I met a while ago on the battlefield.”

“Not part of your team?” she asked.

He shook his head, “No. He was a part of another. He was on our side but his people and ours didn’t get along,” he frowned, “There was a time when we were under fire, and his people could have come to help us but he didn’t. He ordered them to go…to leave…and he left us to fend for ourselves.”

Dis frowned, wondering what he was getting at.

“A lot of my people died, Dis,” he admitted, shakily, “A lot of people…I…if he’d come to help us they might have lived.”

“Oh Richard,” she squeezed his hand, “None of that was your fault.”

He shook his head, “No, I know that. It was _his_ fault. He could have-” he swallowed, pulled his hand out from under Dis’ and sighed, “For the past few month or so he’s been helping us…” he looked down at his hands, “He’s housed my team, gone on recognisance for us, come to my aid and…and he’s the one that saved B- Martin and I from Smaug.”

He looked up to see Dis contemplating his words.

As she thought he leant back and began readjusting and tightening his bun just to give himself something to do. He knew Dis knew it for what it was, a nervous habit, but he was beyond caring at this point.

“And you feel conflicted about his input?” she asked, eventually.

He nodded, “He’s wants to be my friend…he…he’s done a lot for me recently but I can’t help thinking he has an ulterior motive…that he’s trying to manipulate me.”

Dis nodded, “You’ve always been a very suspicious person, Richard.”

“And perhaps for good reason!”

“Have you considered that he feels bad about what happened?” she asked, “What if he’s just trying to make up for it?”

“Yes, I’ve considered that but-”

“You’re also a very stubborn person.”

“Dis, what if he hasn’t changed. What if he’s trying to-”

“To what?” she asked, “If he wished ill of you, why save you from Smaug?” she threw up her hands in defeat at his look of frustration, “It just seems to me like that would be counter-productive.”

Thorin groaned, “I don’t know what to bloody do.”

“Well,” Dis said, pouring herself more tea, “Either become his friend or don’t. It’s not the end of the world, either way. It’s your decision.”

Thorin grimaced.

“The fact you’re struggling so much to make a decision tells me that you’re not sure about him, yourself.”

He glared.

She shrugged, “I’m only telling you what I see here, brother.”

But what if his conflicting emotions were not because he, deep down, believed Thranduil was innocent. What if it was because Richard had liked Lee? What if it was because Richard believed Lee? Because he…because he’d thought he loved Lee? He couldn’t tell her any of that, though. Mahal, if only he could explain the amnesia and his confusion. If only…But even then, could she have given him an answer? He wasn’t sure.

They dropped the subject, and instead talked about Dis’ work. She asked him what he was going to do with himself now that everything was over, and what kind of job he might pick up. He mentioned the financial compensation his team had received and he talked about that jewellery shop he’d wanted to open. He wasn’t so sure he was up to it anymore, though. He didn’t know if he could do something so normal…Yes, he’d spent most of his adolescence and adulthood smithing, designing jewellery and completing other meaningless tasks but that had been because of survival. Now, that he had the means to do what he wanted…he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He guessed he should pick up some kind of job in the mean-time, though. If anything it would please Dis.

After tea, Dis began to clean up and then had to go make a call. In the mean time Thorin went out the back to play with the boys, who were wrestling on the floor with a plastic knight gripped in their grubby paws.

“Hey, hey!” he called, “Knock it off. You can both play with the toy.”

“I had it first!” Fili cried.

“No, you didn’t!” Kili snapped.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, “Fili you’re next in-line for the throne…” he said in his best commanding voice, “Do you really want to be remembered for wrestling over a petty toy?”

Fili pouted, and then glanced at the toy before letting go of it as if he’d been burned, “No, Kili can have the dumb toy.”

Kili grimaced, “Hey!” he shouted, “I don’t need it, either!” and dropped it to the floor.

Thorin rolled his eyes, “Mahal, give me strength,” but he couldn’t be exasperated at them for long.

He laughed at their solemn expressions and pulled them both towards him in a tight hug. They all ended up wrestling on the floor then. He tickled them until they were breathless and then he collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. His bun had fallen half-out and his hair was splayed across their carpet. He grunted when Fili lay on it, and had to readjust the boy so that he didn’t pull on his hair.

“We beat you!” Kili exclaimed.

He grinned up at him, “Sure, you did,” he laughed.

Then after a while of blissful silence Fili wriggled, against his side, “Uncle?”

“Yes, Fili?”

“Mommy still calls you Richard,” he said, “Why doesn’t she call you Thorin? It’s your name, right?”

Thorin tilted his head, “That’s because Mommy doesn’t remember, yet,” he told them, “And we can’t force her to remember. She’ll remember when the time is right.”

“Like we did?” Kili asked.

Thorin frowned, and hugged them, “No,” he said, “You remembered too early. That wasn’t supposed to happen…and I’m…I’m sorry.”

Fili shook his head, “It’s okay, Uncle.”

Kili nodded, “We’re not having bad dreams anymore.”

Thorin felt his heart clench at that, and he bit his lip, holding back the apologies…they wouldn’t be enough, either way.

“And we know not to get into anymore fights,” Fili added.

“Not until we’re a lot older, at least!” Kili corrected.

“That’s good,” Thorin said, softly, “That’s…good.”

Fili began playing with the loose strands of Thorin’s hair, “Thranduil said that sometimes we shouldn’t fight.”

Thorin frowned, “What?”

“He said sometimes it was smarter not to.”

“That you should run away?” Thorin asked.

“No!” Fili groaned, like it was obvious.

“He said sometimes going home is braver than fighting.”

Thorin nodded, “He was right,” he muttered, numbly, and he felt sick to his stomach.

His epiphany came, not in one sudden jolt, or a burst of understanding but in a slow trickle of thick, damning guilt that spilled into his stomach and turned his insides to ice. He realised he’d been denying something that had been there in front of him since the beginning. Thranduil had no way of knowing Fili and Kili would repeat his words…So, this action of his, had been done out of kindness. He’d known to do it because he was a father. Thorin had forgotten that. Thranduil had a son, and a wife…once. But not now; now he was alone. Thorin had never known loneliness like that. Ot would kill him; he was sure of it.

There was no way to deny it now. Even as nerves told him to be cautious he felt Thranduil’s illusive motives settle within his mind. He guessed, when it came down to it, Thranduil didn’t seem at all like he’d been before, not that he’d known him well at all. He supposed, in the end, if Thranduil _was_ manipulating him…he’d survive it. He’d survived Smaug and Azog…with Thranduil’s help. Mahal, if Thranduil was innocent…he…no, everything pointed to him being innocent. Thranduil had only wanted to help and make amends for past mistakes. He’d tried so hard…And Thorin, he’d been an ass. The least he could do was listen to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Thorin playing with a baby Fili and Kili is my weakness. FRICK.
> 
> I did not have time to edit this sorry!! Moving house today and everything is in a complete mess! I may come back and edit this later but probably not lmao, I'm so sorry! I hope you enjoy it!!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thorin had invited him to his flat to talk. Thranduil wanted Thorin to understand his actions these past couple months but he didn’t want Thorin to forget or overlook (which was unlikely, anyway) the mistakes he had made in the past. He wanted forgiveness but he knew he didn’t deserve it. He wanted Thorin’s friendship but he doubted he’d receive it._

Thranduil received the call while he’d been packing. He would be lying if his heart didn’t leap into his throat and his hands shake as he lifted the phone to his ear. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel confused by the call. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or angry by it. He wanted Thorin’s forgiveness, or at least his ear. But he knew he didn’t deserve it. 

He knew that he would not be able to make Thorin understand and even if he managed too…Thranduil could never forgive himself. His hands were wet with the blood of those he had, inadvertently, killed. Thorin had invited him to his flat to talk. Thranduil wanted Thorin to understand his actions these past couple months but he didn’t want Thorin to forget or overlook (which was unlikely, anyway) the mistakes he had made in the past. He wanted forgiveness but he knew he didn’t deserve it. He wanted Thorin’s friendship but he doubted he’d receive it.

He arrived at Thorin’s door a minute earlier than he’d been invited. _Damn anxiety_. At first he hadn’t been sure what would be the most telling. Turning up early seemed like he was too keen, and that might scare Thorin away. But turning up late might seem like he was trying too hard to hide his feelings, or worse make Thorin think that he didn’t care at all. _Eru give him strength._ He was getting ahead of himself. Thorin had invited him for a talk, nothing more, and he had to remind himself that Thorin wasn’t the one who had liked him, Richard had.

But he hated thinking of Richard as a seperate person to Thorin - it made it harder to believe Thorin would ever like him and it made…it made him mounrn a dead man, who’d never in fact existed at all. Deep down Thranduil suspected Thorin liked him; it was more a matter of whether or not he’d let himself believe it or show it.

Thranduil knocked.

The door opened.

They stared at one another for a moment, both unsure what to say and then Thranduil couldn’t take it any longer.

“I brought pie,” he held up the boxes to show Thorin.

Thorin looked away, and for a moment Thranduil thought he caught a hidden smile, but then it was gone. He tilted his head, had he imagined that?

“Come in,” Thorin said, and his voice was deep but calm.

He walked away, leaving the door ajar. Thranduil bit his lip, before following. He placed the pies on the table and played with the hair covering his ear, hoping the lack of a glamour wasn’t as obvious as he thought it was.

Thorin put the pie in the fridge and Thranduil looked around. He’d been in the apartment before, course, but the desk had been cleared and now there were pliers and jewels and metal laying on it. A stand held a ring of metal that Thorin was obviously just working on.

“Is this your jewellery that you-” he frowned, “that Richard told me about?”

Thorin looked up, “Yeah,” then he looked as if he might say something more but he didn’t, and instead turned away again.

“It’s beautiful,” Thranduil continued, keeping his hands well away from it, then he sighed, realising there was no point dancing around the point, “Why did you call me here today?” he asked, turning on the spot to face Thorin.

Thorin didn’t meet his eyes, “Because…you said you wanted to explain.”

“And what changed your mind?”

Thorin looked down at his hands, “A couple things…” he said playing with one of his rings, “Bilbo told me you used the last of your magic to get the Arkenstone…and help me remember.”

“I have a little left,” Thranduil answered, truthfully.

“But not enough to look human.”

Thranduil bit his lip and raised a hand to play with his hair, to readjust it over his ear.

“Fili and Kili also said that you told them it was smarter and braver not to fight.”

“Sometimes, I said,” Thranduil corrected.

“You still believe that?” Thorin asked, trying to keep his tone from taking on an accusatory quality.

Thranduil nodded, “You have to know when the fighting won't help. Even if every bit of you wants to fight, wants to avenge or get revenge…sometimes you have to walk away.” Thranduil sighed and hoped that made sense.

After a moment Thorin spoke, “I’m glad you told them that.”

Thranduil looked up, unsurely, and met Thorin’s sincere gaze with confusion.

Thorin looked away, “Some of us can’t walk away, though.”

“Some of us walked away too soon,” Thranduil retorted.

Thorin gave a laugh, a deep, rumbling chuckle that sounded sad and exhausted. He leant a hand against the table beside him as if to steady himself and sighed.

“We’re a strange…” he trailed off.

“Pair?” Thranduil asked, before smiling unsurely, “You don’t seem mad anymore.”

“I’m tired of being angry all the time.”

“So that’s why you want me to explain?” Thranduil asked, “So you can decide whether or not your anger is justified?”

“If it’s justified we won’t speak again, if it’s not…” Thorin shrugged, “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

Thranduil nodded, and watched Thorin wander over to his couch and sit down. Thranduil hesitantly walked over to the other and took a seat. He didn’t know where to start. He’d shouted explanations at Thorin but they hadn’t ever talked. He hadn’t sat down and thought about how he would tell Thorin, truthfully, what happened. He decided he’d edge his way into the explanation, and hope they didn’t end up shouting at one another again.

“The first thing I did,” Thranduil began, “after I had earned the trust of your people, once more, was visit your grave.” 

He played with the hem of his t-shirt and completely missed Thorin’s look of incredulity.

“I believe some thought I was simply trying to be polite.”

“You weren’t?”

Thranduil frowned, “No.”

“Why did you go then?” Thorin asked, genuinely curious.

Thranduil shrugged, “My hate for your people has always been misguided,” he explained, “When you died that hate faded away. I realised that I had thought your death would give me comfort. That thought haunted me, made me feel disgusted. It wasn’t your people’s fault. My hate should have been aimed elsewhere. I was angry…”

Thorin nodded, “You blamed my grandfather…it was because of those jewels. Are you telling me this is why you left us to the mercy of a dragon? Because of some stupid disagreement about jewellery?”

Thranduil winced, and bit his lip, “My wife was dead,” he began, “Your people promised to make a necklace of the whitest, purest gems for me to give to her. It was a show of trust and friendship between our people. A wedding gift I would have given her,” he breathed out shakily, trying not to dwell on any memory of her in particular…trying to remember who he was explaining this to, and why he was telling him, “When my wife died I was beyond distraught. And when your people did not follow through with the gift, the grief…” he spluttered to a halt, “Your grandfather denied me my promise to her, like death had denied me her presence.”

There was a pause, and Thranduil dared to look up at Thorin. He looked solemn, and he was frowning. When he met Thranduil’s gaze his eyes were cold.

“That is no excuse,” he said, but though it was in anger, he said it softly, as if allowing Thranduil to explain before he let his anger loose.

Thranduil nodded, quickly, “I know,” he said, “I know. It isn’t meant as one, sorry. I’m simply…trying to explain how I thought back then,” he paused, and took a deep breath, “When I realised how wrong I’d been…I made great effort to help your people. It took some time before they trusted me again. Several generations, and by then the dwarven races were beginning to mingle with the race of men. I did what I could to preserve your culture. You should have seen Erebor when it was finished…”

“You…you helped rebuild my kingdom?” Thorin asked.

“Well…not rebuild…” Thranduil frowned, “I helped where I could, if I could…” he sighed, “It’s what I tried to do for you this time round. After you walked into my cafe I hoped you wouldn’t remember. Not just for me,” he added, “I hoped that this was your second chance to be happy. But even then…Richard wasn’t happy. Even then Smaug and Azog were finding ways to hurt you. I had to do something.”

“And you did not do this to make yourself feel better?” Thorin asked, frowning.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” Thranduil responded, “It made me feel useful again. I hoped I was making amends…but getting to know you…or well…Richard. It wasn’t my plan…I didn’t intend to…We became friends, and I cared what happened to him. I give you my word that…I was not trying to manipulate you.”

Thorin ran a hand across his beard, and looked away, “It’s difficult…” he said, eventually, and seemed as if he wanted to say more but his words trailed off into silence once again.

After a moment Thranduil nodded, “I know,” he said, truthfully, “All I ask is that you listen.”

Thorin nodded.

“That day on the cliff I was terrified,” Thranduil started again, “I didn’t know what to do and all I could think about was how many of my people would have died. I know…” Thranduil grimaced, “I know now that it wasn’t the right decision. That I could have saved more lives if I’d taken your people in, if I’d…but I didn’t. I didn’t because I was thinking about my own people, and I was being selfish.” 

Thranduil looked up to study Thorin’s expression. He looked solemn still but surprisingly not angry. His anger had been replaced by exhaustion - in his dark-ringed eyes and by an uncertain attention - that didn’t seem reluctant. Thranduil supposed this might be as good as it got.

“I regret everything I did that day, and the days to follow until the day you died. I regret hiding in my forest and pretending the rest of the world didn’t need my aid, didn’t need my concern. I’ve had a long time to think about it, and I don’t expect forgiveness but in all this time I never even considered that I might be able to actually tell you how…” he bit his lip, “how sorry I am. How…If I could take back that decision…on my very life I’d have…even that day on the battlefield. Even then I could have done something but…if I could have taken your place…”

He looked up and met Thorin’s eyes, and the look of understanding he saw there, the sincere sympathy, made his chest ache. Thranduil looked away, raised a hand to cover his face as his eyes stung. He tried to hold back the relieved shudders but the tears wouldn’t stop. He didn’t need Thorin to say anything, he didn’t need him to say he understood; that look, right there that he had given Thranduil was all he could ever have hoped for.

“I’m sorry, I-” he stuttered.

After a moment Thorin lay a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. The elf stiffened, wiped away his tears and looked at Thorin, who gave him a pitying look. 

“You elves are all so dramatic.”

Thranduil laughed in disbelief. 

“I’m not dead anymore,” Thorin added.

Thranduil frowned and looked away again, “You were,” he said, “You died at the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin, and it is my fault that your life ended so quickly, that your nephews’ lives ended so soon. That all your friends had to suffer…” 

When he looked back Thorin’s jaw was clenched and he was grimacing at him.

“What?”

“You’ve changed…a lot,” Thorin muttered, “I don’t know why I didn’t see it.”

Thranduil ran a shaking hand through his hair, and then when Thorin’s eyes locked on the gesture, he tried to mask it by readjusting his collar and coughing. He looked away, tried to pretend he wasn’t anxious and only succeeded in seeming more so.

“I liked Richard,” he said, “I like to think he was you but if he wasn’t…I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to prove to you that I’ve changed…” he frowned, “In more ways than one; that I’m not cruel or spiteful.”

He didn’t know what he expected from Thorin but it wasn’t a curt nod and a simple, “Alright.”

He looked up and frowned, “What?”

“Alright,” Thorin said, a smile playing at his lips, “But no secrets from now on.”

Thranduil smiled, “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took a little longer than promised I had a lot of stuff to do. /: You’ll have to thank my work for this being updated today lmao they canceled my shift this morning so I had time to finish this. I also finished this earlier today but then my bloody internet stuffed up so…apologies for that too.
> 
> On a different note: I reached 50k woah! I hope you have all enjoyed the fic so far. We've still got a little more to go but not much more, unfortunately. I'm working on the next chapter right now but it might not get uploaded next Tuesday because I have a major essay and presentation due and haven't started either whoopsie. Please leave a comment! Thanks :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I can’t stop…” Thranduil looked down, “…wanting to explain my actions.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You already have,” Thorin pointed out._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I feel like I haven’t explained enough.”_

Gandalf left a week later to find out more about their situation; about whether or not Morgoth was really going to return. He said he’d be gone six weeks and no more and that he’d call if anything he found was helpful. He said Thorin should invite Thranduil back into the groups meetings; if not for Thorin, then for the others, who had begun asking about _Lee,_ and what had happened between him and Thorin. Thorin had grunted in response, and pretended he wasn’t grateful for the excuse to invite Thranduil to their weekend picnic.

It wasn’t that he had forgiven him. He hadn’t…exactly. But he was starting to see clearer now. He was starting to see how different Thranduil was. He was anxious, and reserved and fearful and regretful and…and alone. Thranduil was very alone. He had thought, without trial, that Thranduil was guilty when he wasn’t. He wasn’t innocent, either, though; no one was. But he had served his sentence (whether or not he deserved it; and Thorin had no right to be his judge and executioner) and if he deserved anything it was a chance. If he stabbed Thorin in the back, well…It wouldn’t be the first time. He tried not to think about that, though. He tried to keep an open mind. He tried to look at Thranduil as Lee…or at least as a changed ~~man~~ , elf. But it was still difficult. What made it easier was everyone calling Thranduil by his alternative name.

Thorin was sitting with Thranduil on a park bench watching Fili and Kili play. The others in the company were here and there across the park. Dwalin, Balin, Gloin, Nori and Ori were playing with Fili and Kili, while Bifur, Oin, Bombur and Dori were sitting on a picnic rug, having a loud conversation about which alcoholic beverage was the best. Every now and then Dwalin would shout insults (all g-rated; there were children present after all) over at them at their choices. 

Then there was Bilbo and Bofur, who were sitting on another bench by themselves, talking quietly. Bofur sent Thranduil and himself an incredulous look now and then. He’d remembered, apparently. He wasn’t taking it well, apparently. But really? Had any of them? He certainly hadn’t.

“Will he be okay?” Thranduil asked.

Thorin nodded, “Yeah, he’ll be fine.” 

He looked over at Bofur and saw Bilbo take his hand and squeeze it gently. Bofur smiled weakly and stared at Fili and Kili across the field of grass. Thorin didn’t have to guess to know what Bofur was thinking about. He was remembering a different field…a field of dirt, of grime, and arrows and spears and swords, and the clashes of metal and the screams of fellow dwarves, and humans and elves.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” he repeated.

He didn’t miss the way Thranduil turned to look at him unsurely. He wondered for a moment if Thranduil would ask him: _‘Are you fine?’_. He didn’t, thankfully. Instead Thranduil looked back across the field and smiled gently.

“Do you think you might open up that jewellery shop?” he asked. 

Thorin shrugged, “Maybe one day.” 

__“Rather not think about it?”_ _

__“Rather not think about anything,” Thorin admitted, “but that isn’t stopping my head from trying.”_ _

__Thranduil nodded and looked out at the dwarves talking or playing or messing about on the grass, “My head won’t shut up, either,” he said._ _

__Thorin tilted his head towards him in question._ _

__“I can’t stop…” Thranduil looked down, “…wanting to explain my actions.”_ _

__“You already have,” Thorin pointed out._ _

__“I feel like I haven’t explained enough.”_ _

__Thorin nodded, solemnly. He had. He’d explained enough that Thorin was questioning his beliefs about him, he’d explained enough that Thorin now understood him better. Thorin knew why Thranduil had turned his back and it hadn’t been out of spite but self-preservation._ _

__“You know, I was angry at every fool who had started a war for petty things like gems and jewels…It was only after your death that my senses cleared and I realised it had been me that had started it all,” Thranduil explained, “I had been the one fighting for gems, and you had been the one fighting for your home.”_ _

__Thorin frowned._ _

__“Who was I to deny you that?” Thranduil scoffed at himself, “It wasn’t your fault when the gold sickness took a hold of you. That was inevitable. And even then you showed yourself to be strong of heart and mind. You overcame it.”_ _

__“I wouldn’t have if not for my family,” he said, “Bilbo helped a lot.”_ _

__They both looked over at where Bilbo sat, running a hand across Bofur’s back in comforting circles._ _

__“But I could have,” Thranduil said, looking back to Thorin, “I’d have been a fool to even attempt to take on the dragon but I should have taken your people in at the very least. And after that I should have tried to help you clear your mind of the gold sickness. I should have been up on that cliff fighting Azog beside you.”_ _

__“I'd never have let you, Thranduil,” Thorin answered, “Not after you turned your back.”_ _

__Thranduil looked away._ _

__“No,” Thorin sighed, “I mean…you made a decision and what happened after was always going to happen because we took certain paths. It might feel like yesterday for me…but a lot of time has passed for you…You do not need to make amends.”_ _

__“I’m not simply making amends, Thorin,” Thranduil grimaced, “My judgement was clouded by grief. My decisions were flawed, and selfish, and…I _am_ sorry. When I saw you lying lifeless upon the earth I regretted everything. In that moment I knew what I had done, or rather not done, had been childishly selfish. I could have prevented your death if I had made different choices.”_ _

__“You could not have saved me from that,” Thorin answered, “My fate was decided the day Azog killed my grandfather.”_ _

__“Which might not have happened if I had not acted upon grief and fear and selfishness and pride.”_ _

__“You talk of _’if’s_ and _’maybe’s_ and pretend that you could have prevented so much.” Thorin said, “In hindsight it might seem obvious which choices you should have made but…I know what grief does to one’s judgement,” he had the urge to touch Thranduil’s shoulder and reassure him but he didn’t, “Stop lingering on the past.”_ _

__“What are you talking about that’s got you so solemn!”_ _

__They both looked up to see Dis giving them a raised eyebrow and standing with her hands on her hips._ _

__She shook her head at them, “We’re meant to be having fun! I know my brother doesn’t know the meaning of fun but you surely do, Lee?”_ _

__Thorin snorted, “He’s never kicked a ball in his life,” he said jabbing a thumb in his direction._ _

__“You’ve got to be joking!” Dis exclaimed, “Have you been living in a cave?”_ _

__Thranduil hid his smile behind a hand, while Thorin let out a short, loud laugh._ _

__Dis continued to shake her head at them before she turned to search for Fili and Kili, “Boys!” she called, “I need your football-skills over here, please!”_ _

__Fili and Kili came running across the grass._ _

__“This idiot here doesn’t know anything about football; who want’s to teach him something?”_ _

__Both of their eyes lit up in excitement and then much to Thorin’s amusement Thranduil was dragged across the grass by Fili and Kili to play with the others. Balin and Dwalin were still a bit reserved when it came to interacting with Thranduil. They’d been shocked after discovering who Lee was. But they were getting used to it. The fact Fili and Kili took such a shine to him helped._ _

__“It is always scary to let someone in.”_ _

__Thorin looked up at his sister, “Not as scary as this is,” he murmured, before looking back across the field, “We have history…”_ _

__“History as enemies?”_ _

__Thorin nodded, “And I don’t know if we can ever move passed that…not completely.”_ _

__“Sure you can,” Dis smiled, “You already are. Just look at the way he looks at you.”_ _

__Thorin looked up to see Thranduil get knocked down by both Fili and Kili. He shot Thorin a faux-distressed smile that made Thorin smirk. He looked away._ _

__“And you should see the way you look at him.”_ _

__Thorin turned to his sister, and frowned at her, “It’s not-”_ _

__“Sure,” she winked at him._ _

__He frowned, and looked away again and tried to understand the warm feeling in his chest and why in Mahal’s name he’d be feeling it because of Thranduil. He’d been feeling it for a while now…in the back of his mind, in the corner of his chest; a feeling he’d believed to be left over by his time as Richard. But really was he any different from Richard? Was Thranduil any different from Lee? Discovering that he liked Thranduil in _that_ way felt strange and yet a little exciting; the same kind of feeling Thorin remembers experiencing as a human kid when he was taught for the first time that everything around you was made up of tiny little things called atoms. He’d always kind of known there was more to it. He just hadn’t really thought about it. Nevertheless, he kept it to himself, unsure of what to do with the new information._ _

__The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Thorin hadn’t talked to Thranduil much after their conversation on the bench. Not until they were in a cab together and on the way back to each of their flats._ _

__Thorin noticed straight away that Thranduil was uneasy. He had his head down-cast and was wringing his hands. The sight of it made Thorin’s chest clench, and he wanted to reach out and grab them and hold them in place but he didn’t because…because…his feelings…they were left over from a memory of a…relationship…that…Richard and Lee…they weren’t actually but…Thranduil’s eyes were glassy and Thorin looked away, gave him privacy, as much as he could in the small, confined space they were in._ _

__“I would have stayed in those woods, you know?” Thranduil said all of a sudden, quietly so that the driver wouldn’t hear; which was doubtful anyway as the partition of glass was up. “I would have watched as the world around me crumbled and rotted away…Or rose without my aid.”_ _

__Thorin looked up again, despite himself, and Thranduil looked ashamed or embarrassed or a mix of the two. He looked drained and fragile and dimmed and Thorin remembered a proud king, a tall, sparkling, bright king, and Thranduil was no longer that king. He remembered the first time he had met Thranduil; though, met was probably not an accurate word for it. Thranduil had talked with his father and grandfather over maps and boundaries. Thorin had only been present because it was required of him, as part of the royal family. Thorin had shared a look with Thranduil, shared a nod, and the next time he’d seen the elf there was a strained, emphatic loathing hanging in the air between the dwarves and elves._ _

__“I was a cowardly king,” Thranduil continued, “Your sacrifice, your passion...and the courage of your friends is what brought me out of the shadows.”_ _

__Thorin frowned, and realised Thranduil was thanking him; he was thanking him for stopping him from running and - Thorin froze. Thranduil had stayed behind. Thranduil had seen that Thorin hadn’t run and had died (arguably - or at least Thranduil would argue - because he had been unaided). Thranduil had seen his elven brethren run away to the Undying Lands and he had chosen to stay behind. He saw Thorin wouldn’t run and so he didn’t either._ _

__“In your name I ventured forth,” Thranduil admitted, “You made me want to walk this earth again and know its folk.”_ _

__Thorin felt a jolt of sudden need to stop those wringing hands and he let himself; he leant over and took Thranduil’s hands in one of his own and held them still. Thranduil flinched at the gesture which made Thorin’s heart clench again but he pushed the feeling back, and held Thranduil’s hands still. Then, unsurely, Thranduil wriggled one hand out of Thorin’s grip, and took a hold of one of Thorin’s hands. Thorin let him._ _

__After a moment of silence Thorin couldn’t take it any longer and turned to Thranduil, still holding his hand, “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”_ _

__“Really?” Thranduil blinked, and then looked away, and after a moment smirked to hide his surprise, “I mean…Are we upgrading our lunches to dinners now?”_ _

__Thorin snorted, “My apologies needed an upgrade.”_ _

__Thranduil shook his head, “No they didn’t-“_ _

__“Yes or no to dinner?”_ _

__Thranduil smiled, “Yes.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update was a little late. I've been very busy. My updates might be a little erratic for a while, sorry. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please leave a comment. :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Thranduil,” Thorin snapped, grabbing his hand before he could stand, “I don’t blame you for any of that, you idiotic elf.” Thranduil tried to pull away but Thorin held him still, “Yes, you’ve done some stupid things in the past. So have I. Yes, there are things you might regret but they are in the past. I…I don’t think I have quite forgiven you-”_
> 
> _Thranduil flinched but stopped struggling to get away._
> 
> _“It’s more like…it’s more like I blame the past you. He was not a good person but you’re…” Thorin frowned, “You’ve changed a lot. A little for the better…a little for the worse. But…but now you’re a good person.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the updates are so erratic at the moment. AND I'm sorry that I kind of hinted this was going to be a sex scene lmao but...that is next chapter. SORRY! I have two major assignments due next week so I probably won't have time to write and I know...that's terrible timing considering what's coming next but I will update as soon as possible! I didn't even have time to go over this chapter so excuse shitty grammar and/or narrative. And please leave a comment :)

Thranduil struggled through work, jittery and excited and just a little worried about his planned dinner with Thorin that night. If any of the customers noticed his anxiety they didn’t say anything. He messed up three orders before Chuck told him to go home early and get some rest. Then he spent the rest of the day being useless and trying to work out what to wear for the dinner. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect. It was just dinner right? Thorin just wanted to discuss everything a little more? Or was it…was it an attempt to befriend him? Were they at that point? They’d been fairly friendly towards one another of late. They hadn’t fought…and then…there was the hand-holding in the taxi. It _was_ just dinner right?

Thorin arrived at seven, and by then Thranduil had calmed himself down a little bit, to the point he liked to think he looked reasonably collected. Thorin made no mention of his nerves so perhaps he succeeded. They walked to the restaurant. Thorin had picked it. It was a fairly quiet, small place, opposite Greenwood Park. Thranduil thought that quite ironic or perhaps poetic. They sat at a table looking over the park, and he wondered what section of Greenwood once surrounded the area. This time he didn’t feel sad or even melancholic. He felt good. It was almost as if Thorin had purposefully chosen this place so as to calm Thranduil.

Thranduil ordered another salad dish and Thorin raised his eyebrow, “Don’t you ever eat meat?”

“I’ve tried it since the Fourth Age but it doesn’t really agree with me,” he shrugged.

Thorin frowned and shook his head, “You’re missing out.”

Thranduil didn’t mention the fact that he might have to start taking iron supplements. His magic used to keep his body healthy but with little to no magic left he’d have to start looking after himself more.

“I’m hesitant to ask…”

Thranduil looked up, “Go ahead.”

“What happened to your son?” he asked, “You told Richard he went to America.”

“He left for Valinor,” Thranduil said, playing with the stem of his wine glass.

Thorin grimaced, “The Undying Lands?”

Thranduil nodded, “It was time for him,” he said. “Legolas had done much for Middle-Earth, and he’d remained strong and wise throughout. I was frightened that if he stayed behind he would have grown cold like me.”

Thorin frowned and Thranduil could tell the dwarf was unsure what to say to that. So instead he decided to surprise him.

“Of course he had many friends who kept him from loneliness and prejudice,” he smiled, “A certain dwarf’s son helped widen my son’s horizons.”

Thorin perked up in interest, “Oh?” Thorin frowned, “Don’t get me wrong but…he didn’t exactly enjoy our company last I saw him.”

“Well Gloin’s son Gimli certainly made an impression on him.”

“Gimli?” Thorin laughed, and shook his head, “Really?”

Thranduil nodded.

“I always thought that little rascal was going to grow up to be an interesting dwarf.”

“He certainly was that,” Thranduil smirked, “I never met him but Legolas was quite taken. Gimli even managed to persuade Legolas into quite a few cave explorations.”

Thorin snorted, “Well I must say I’m surprised.”

“I assure you, as was I,” Thranduil smiled.

Thorin stared at the tablecloth, “You know, it’s starting to sound more and more like our people were never meant to be enemies.”

Thranduil gritted his teeth, and looked away. That might be so, and if it was then he knew he had a large hand in keeping the races apart. He’d had a large hand in so many terrible things. He’d known good people who’d done bad, who’d redeemed themselves…he still hadn’t. He’d simply done nothing for centuries and thought the loneliness was perhaps penance enough. But it wasn’t. Aragorn Elessar had lead armies in the War of the Ring in both penance for his ancestor’s feat and for the good of all; and what had Thranduil done? He had spent these past centuries moping.

“Thranduil?”

He looked up to see Thorin watching him unsurely.

“Do you blame me?”

Thorin frowned, “Well…I…”

“Not only did I ruin relations between the dwarves and elves but because of it relations between dwarves and man also wavered.” 

“Thranduil-”

He stared into his blood red wine, “Many dwarves died without the aid of man or elf…and many died without the aid of dwarves.” 

“Thranduil, don’t be ridiculous-”

“You blame me, though, don’t you?” Thranduil demanded, pushing out his chair. 

He should leave now and not look back. Just go. Go back to his baking and to his lonely flat. Maybe he could track down Morgoth’s forces and kill as many as he could. Maybe he could make a difference now.

“Thranduil,” Thorin snapped, grabbing his hand before he could stand, “I don’t blame you for any of that, you idiotic elf.” Thranduil tried to pull away but Thorin held him still, “Yes, you’ve done some stupid things in the past. So have I. Yes, there are things you might regret but they are in the past. I…I don’t think I have quite forgiven you-”

Thranduil flinched but stopped struggling to get away.

“It’s more like…it’s more like I blame the past you. He was not a good person but you’re…” Thorin frowned, “You’ve changed a lot. A little for the better…a little for the worse. But…but now you’re a good person.”

He grimaced.

“I wouldn’t have given that past elf even a moment of my time…but you…” he smiled, “Well, we’re having dinner, aren’t we?”

Thranduil didn’t know what to do with the humour he found in Thorin’s eyes. It unnerved him as much as it joyed him.

“Don't think this is all about _you_ ,” Thorin continued, jabbing a fork in his direction, “Our races would have found a reason to hate one another no matter what either of us had done. You had a right to be angry. Perhaps, leaving us unaided was cruel but your anger was understandable.”

“Perhaps…?” Thranduil looked away, frowning.

Thorin obviously didn’t like the turn their conversation had taken because he kicked Thranduil under the table and when Thranduil looked up at him there was a humorous glint to his eyes.

“You said you helped my people. How? What else did you do?” he asked.

“I…I don’t think…you don’t want-” Thranduil frowned.

“What?”

“Can’t we just focus on the present?”

Thorin snorted, “That’s what I was trying to say before and you were intent on focusing on the past so that’s what we’re doing. You brought it up, so now we’re talking about it.”

“But…”

“What?” Thorin frowned, “What are you afraid of?”

“All you have is my word…” Thranduil pointed out, “What is the point of telling you if you won’t…know if I’m telling you the truth? I don’t want you to think I’m making up stories to…win…your affection.”

Thorin stared at him for a moment, before squeezing Thranduil’s hand, the one he was still holding. He leant forward a little, “Tell me how you rebuilt my kingdom,” he said, firmly, “I’ll make a judgement on whether or not I believe what you say.”

Thranduil gritted his teeth, “…If…if you insist.” 

“I do.”

He took a deep breath, “I visited your grave a lot. A couple of times I was found there. Balin and Dwalin didn’t like that.”

Thorin frowned, “I can imagine.”

Thranduil didn’t tell him about the arguments, or the fighting. Dwalin hadn’t mentioned any of it yet, so he didn’t intend to either. Plus, there was no point; no one was hurt.

“It took a long time but, your people eventually began to trust me. I helped rebuild parts of Erebor with my magic, and I gave as much of my knowledge to them as I could. I think after a while, after a couple of generations your people stopped talking of me as an elf and I started being known as a sorceress, which…” Thranduil shrugged, “I didn’t mind.” He’d preferred it. “I lived in Erebor up until the end of the Fourth Age.”

“You lived in Erebor?” Thorin asked, incredulously.

Thranduil nodded, “But when your people left for the big cities we went our seperate ways.”

“I thought elves didn’t like caves?” Thorin asked.

“They don’t, usually,” Thranduil admitted, “I got used to it.” 

He’d liked it very much in the end. What it would have been like to share Thorin’s company in those great halls, and have him explain sculpture or engraving with an inspired light in his eyes. 

“Do you miss it?” Thranduil asked him.

“Erebor?”

He nodded.

“Every day…” Thorin frowned, “And night. I haven’t stopped dreaming of it since I remembered. Not of what happened in it, in the end,” Thorin corrected, “But of…of good things.” 

As Thorin spoke of Erebor his eyes glazed over just as they had when he had held the Arkenstone. The look scared Thranduil. 

“I dream of when I was a child, and listening to my mother’s stories of tales from long ago, or…or running through the halls after my brother and sister…sometimes I just dream of the halls themselves.”

Thranduil wondered, not for the first time, if he should mention the map he’d found in Smaug’s den. The map was dwarven, and so it, by right, belonged to Thorin, but that look in Thorin’s eyes terrified him. It wasn’t the same look as he’d had while under the thralls of Dragon sickness. Instead, it was a confused, detached gaze; the same gaze Richard had sometimes worn when something had reminded him of a past he didn’t quite remember.

“Are they good dreams?” Thranduil asked.

Thorin’s eyes cleared at the sound of his voice and Thranduil decided that perhaps it would be best if he kept the map’s existence to himself for now.

“They are sometimes,” he answered, and Thranduil felt as if Thorin wasn’t telling him everything.

He didn’t intend to ask for fear that the dead and detached gaze might return. Instead he went back to eating. Though, he was now acutely aware of the hand still on his, and that was…distracting him, incredibly, and confusing him to the point he could no longer think of anything else to say.

“Uh, Thorin…”

Thorin looked up.

Thranduil frowned, biting his lip, “Never mind.”

“Just say it…”

“You won’t like it…”

“I prefer people to just say what they think…”

Thranduil doubted that was true, considering how many times he’d told Thorin exactly what he’d thought, and how many of those times Thorin had threatened to either kill him or punch him. He frowned at the dwarf.

Thorin simply stared back until he relented, “Why did you invite me to dinner?”

“Because…” Thorin swallowed, and looked down.

If Thranduil was reading his body language correctly, he’d say that Thorin was embarrassed by the question. Thranduil frowned.

“Because,” Thorin tried again, “I like you.”

Thranduil froze.

“You _have_ changed a lot. You were right,” Thorin admitted, “I’ve always felt this way, since I remembered everything. But it was…difficult…I thought it was Richard’s feelings but…Richard’s me, just as Lee is you.”

“So…” Thranduil’s fork shook in his hand and he put it down, “You mean…” he swallowed.

What did that mean? Did that mean Thorin liked him enough to spend time with him as a friend? Did it mean Thorin was willing to look passed their troubling past and move on to…wherever it was they were going? Did it mean they were going…somewhere? Thranduil stared at Thorin’s hand on his and he wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Thorin squeezed his hand, “Eat your damned salad, elf,” he smirked.

Thranduil gave a weak smile, and tried to think of something witty to say in response, something to hide his uncertainty and anxiety.

“Your table manners have improved.”

Wait-a-go, Thranduil, insult the man you’re having dinner with. He couldn’t help hiding a smile behind a hand. Apparently, he settled on familiarity when he was anxious, insulting Thorin was probably as familiar as it got.

Thorin, thankfully, took the insult in stride and laughed, “Thanks to Richard,” he said, “Plus, I was never that bad…”

“I seem to remember you flicking food at me during one meeting I had with your father,” Thranduil pointed at.

Thorin smirked, “That wasn’t me. That was Dis,” he assured him, “I just got blamed for it.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, “Of course it was…”

“If I wished to insult you I would have done something far more obvious.”

“I don't doubt it,” Thranduil replied, and then out of curiosity he asked, “Speaking of your sister; Does she remember?”

“No,” Thorin frowned.

“I can leave London if she wants me to.”

Thorin glared at him, “If she’s going to hate one of us it’s not going to be you, Thranduil…I got her sons killed.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Thranduil answered, and if it wasn’t his own fault, then, “It was Azog’s.”

Thorin shook his head, “I took them on a dangerous mission when they were barely eighty-years-old.”

“She’ll forgive you,” it was Thranduil’s turn to squeeze Thorin's hand reassuringly.

Thorin grimaced, and stared at their hands, obviously unconvinced.

“Thorin, you’ve let me explain…” Thranduil reminded him, “You’ve given _me_ , of all people, a second chance. She is your sister, and she loves you. She won’t blame you for what happened, and if she does blame you then…if you can give me a second change, I have no doubt that she will do the same for you.”

Thorin smiled shakily at him, and Thranduil wanted so desperately to cup his face and kiss him in that moment that he became distracted in his attempt to remain still in his seat. Thorin had said something he’d vaguely heard but he couldn’t remember his words.

“What?”

“Did you want to leave?” Thorin repeated.

They split the bill and left the restaurant hand-in-hand.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thranduil bit his lips unsurely, “I really want to kiss you now.”_
> 
> _Thorin smirked, and met his gaze, “Alright.”_

They were standing outside Thranduil’s apartment when Thranduil had finally worked up the courage to mention Thorin’s earlier words.

“You said earlier you liked people who spoke their mind.”

“Yeah?”

Thranduil bit his lips unsurely, “I really want to kiss you now.”

Thorin smirked, and met his gaze, “Alright.”

Thranduil took ahold of the lapels of Thorin’s jacket and pulled him forwards gently. He met Thorin’s eyes, and pressed his lips to his experimentally. They’d kissed before. But it hadn’t really been them. They hadn’t really known the full story. That kiss had been nothing compared to this. Thranduil’s heart was beating unbelievably fast as he kissed Thorin more deeply, and felt Thorin’s hands on his back and neck, and in his hair. 

He pulled back slowly, and smiled, looking away and going to unlock his apartment door. He fumbled with his keys and swore in Sindarin under his breath. His heart was thundering in his chest as he thought over whether or not he was going to go out on a limb and say everything that was on his mind. He pushed the front door open and spun on the spot.

“You haven’t had too much to drink, have you?” he asked, wincing; knowing he should probably have checked earlier.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, “You’ve got to be joking. I can drink a lot more than that before I’m even tipsy.”

“Good.”

Thorin frowned at him for a moment before his eyes widened, “Oh…”

“If you wanted to…” Thranduil looked away unsurely.

Thorin swallowed and nodded, and gently pushed Thranduil through the doorway, before kicking the front door shut. Thranduil tried to hide his smile but he couldn’t, and Thorin laughed at the dumb look. Thranduil lead Thorin down the hall, and into the living room. But he couldn’t wait any longer and shoved Thorin against the kitchen table. Thorin cried out in surprise but Thranduil had a strong grip on his jacket, and stopped him from falling. Said jacket was then removed and Thranduil stared down at Thorin in awe and just a little trepidation. He couldn’t believe he was being allowed to kiss Thorin, to touch him like this…to…

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

Thorin pressed his lips to Thranduil’s collarbone, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Thranduil pushed him away gently, “Well…it’s just…you might regret it.”

“I know it’s you, Thranduil,” Thorin rolled his eyes, and used his name as if to further his point. “I know we’ve had trouble in the past…”

“I just don’t want you hating me in the morning.”

“I have a clear head, I promise,” Thorin replied, running a hand through Thranduil’s hair hooking it behind his pointed ears, “I can make this decision.”

Thranduil grimaced, “But are you sure?”

Thorin sighed, “I want to make this decision, you damned elf,” he growled.

Thranduil snorted, “Fucking dwarf…”

“You better be soon,” Thorin replied, without flinching.

Thranduil felt himself blush and tried to hide it by looking away and then when he didn’t succeed he went back to undressing Thorin. He pulled at his jacket, roughly, wrenching it from Thorin’s shoulders, then set to work on his button-up shirt, throwing it open to reveal a slightly-tanned, toned chest. He must have been staring because Thorin chuckled and pulled him down into a kiss, before pulling off Thranduil’s jacket, and going to pull up his t-shirt -

“Um wait.”

Thorin stopped immediately and looked up, “What is it?”

“I’m…I’m not sure…I don’t want…” he looked away.

“What?” Thorin asked, “We can stop if you-”

“No!” Thranduil exclaimed, perhaps a little hastily, “No, that’s not…it’s the…the scars…”

Thorin’s expression softened, “I’ve already seen them,” he said gently.

“I know,” Thranduil winced, “But can we just…can I keep my shirt on?”

Thorin nodded, and cupped his cheek, “Sure,” and he pulled him into another kiss.

Thorin tongued Thranduil’s pursed lips, daring them to open, and they did and Thranduil sucked Thorin’s tongue into his own mouth, and circled it. He parted his lips, breathed in Thorin’s breath and kissed Thorin again, gently. Thranduil’s hands traveled up to Thorin’s neck, pulled him closer, and held him there. He encircled his hands into his curls, and tugged gently, feeling his bun unravel a little. He pulled away just to see the mess he’d made of Thorin’s hair. He frowned. Not messy enough, it seemed. With a smirk and a gentle tug he pulled the bun out completely and let Thorin’s hair fall about his shoulders.

Thorin smirked at him, “You alright there?” he asked.

Thranduil pulled Thorin forwards in way of an answer, and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, burying one hand into Thorin’s long hair and getting a good handful of it before tugging gently, and rocking his hips into Thorin’s. Thorin growled into the kiss, and bit down on Thranduil’s lips. His hands traveled down Thranduil’s chest, and passed over one of his taut nipples, making Thranduil shudder and pull away.

“What is it now?” Thorin asked.

“I want to take it off,” Thranduil replied breathlessly, grabbing at his own t-shirt.

Thorin stopped him with a hand and a laugh, “You sure? You’re okay with this?”

Thranduil smiled back, “I’m okay?” he asked incredulously, “Are you…Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you?” he asked, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “I’m surprised you’d ever want me…after what I’ve done to you,” he pulled his t-shirt off, and threw it to the floor, revealing his many, many scars.

“What you’ve done?” Thorin muttered, running a finger along a scar across his chest.

Thranduil looked away, a little nervously, “Or what I didn’t do…”

“That was a long time ago, and I can see now…how much it hurt you,” Thorin told him, eyeing the scars, “I’m surprised that you want to be with me after everything I’ve put you through these past months.

“What you’ve put me through!?” Thranduil scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous. I deserved-“

“Thranduil!” Thorin exclaimed, “Let’s not argue for once.”  
 “But-”

“Shut up and let me kiss you!” he growled, pulling Thranduil forward and pressing a bruising kiss to his pursed, surprised, lips.

Thranduil laughed into the kiss, and pushed Thorin’s shirt off of his shoulders before grabbing his belt and pulling him forwards, off the table.

“If you’re so eager, come on then,” Thranduil smirked, leading Thorin by the front of his pants, into the bedroom.

Thranduil dropped Thorin onto his bed, and began undoing his jeans, as Thorin did the same. Then Thorin simply stared at Thranduil as he undressed.

“Enjoying the view?”

“I am, but I might also need some help,” Thorin laughed.

Thranduil nodded, “Right,” and grabbed his jeans, pulling them as Thorin wriggled out.

“So romantic,” Thorin huffed a laugh as he was finally free of his jeans.

“Your fault for wearing tight jeans,” Thranduil stuck out his tongue.

“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,” Thorin quipped back.

Thranduil put his hands to his underwear, and was dropped them but paused, “Have you, done this before?”

Thorin looked up, “Yeah, a couple times, you?”

“The same,” Thranduil replied, “Want to be on top?” he asked.

“I’ve always been on top,” Thorin answered with a wink.

Thranduil gave a surprised laugh.

“I don’t mind but I’d love it if you could,” Thorin smirked, “ _fuck_ me.”

Thranduil swallowed, “Uh,” he blinked, “Uh lube’s in the drawer.”

Thorin reached for it and handed it to the elf, watching him with lidded eyes. 

Thranduil took the lube with shaking hands, and Thorin must have noticed because he sat up and took one of his wrists gently, “We really don’t have to continue,” he repeated.

Thranduil frowned, “No, it’s just I- I don’t want to hurt you.”

Thorin smiled, “You won’t. I promise,” and he pulled him gently down into a kiss.

Thorin teethed Thranduil’s bottom lip, making heat go straight to his crotch. He cupped his face, and edged his tongue in between his puckered lips, testing the waters so to say, and earning a pleased shudder from Thranduil. They released one another and Thranduil gave Thorin an faux-indignant look.

“What?” Thorin laughed.

“You’re distracting me,” Thranduil answered, dropping his underwear and picking up the lube he’d dropped.

Thorin laughed, and quickly wriggled out of his own underwear, before pulling Thranduil towards him, causing him to fall. 

“Then let me do some more distracting,” Thorin whispered into his ear.

Thranduil managed to snake an arm around to the bed and brace himself over Thorin. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Will you now?” he asked, staring down at Thorin, “You and whose army?”

Thorin smirked and attempted to lean towards Thranduil but without even moving Thranduil’s weight was making it impossible for Thorin to stretch far enough. He lay back with a huff and pouted.

“Unfair.”

Thranduil laughed and pressed a kiss to Thorin’s pouting lips.

He pressed a kiss to his cheek, to just below his ear, to his neck, and sucked at the sensitive skin there. Thorin moaned into the nip. He pressed his lips to the crook of Thorin’s neck, and kissed along his collarbone, one hand trailing over his hairy chest. Thranduil nipped at his neck, earning him another moan and shiver from Thorin. He smiled into the man’s shoulder, before biting once more, and flicking a finger over one of his nipples causing the shorter man to shudder involuntarily.

One of Thorin’s hands gripped Thranduil’s arm, while the other had hooked itself onto his neck, where his fingers were playing with Thranduil’s hair. A slightly harsher bite caused Thorin to buck his hips uncontrollably, causing Thranduil to suck in a shuddering breath.

Thranduil hooked his fingers into Thorin’s dark curls and tugged Thorin back to reveal his neck more openly. He descended on it with the intention of ravishing it beyond recognition. As he teased his teeth along his jaw-line and bit at his neck once more he reflected, with delight, on how Thorin might look the next day. He hoped Thorin was meeting with the rest of the dwarves. He’d have liked to watch Thorin try and explain that.

He pressed his lips to Thorin’s again, and Thorin took the opportunity to take control and darted his tongue into Thranduil’s mouth, circling it and bucking his hips a couple more times for good measure. Thranduil was shuddering when Thorin let him go, and tilted him gently to reveal his crotch to him.

While cradling Thranduil with one arm, he took Thranduil’s cock with the other and began pumping, as he kissed him. Thranduil moaned unintelligibly into the kisses and whimpered out of need for more and faster friction. Thorin smiled knowingly into the kiss and sought out the lube, quickly, undoing the lid deftly with one hand before slicking his fingers and curling them once more around Thranduil’s cock, giving it a few quicker, rougher pumps earning him Thranduil’s shuddering, breathless gasps.

Then Thorin flipped Thranduil onto his back and straddled him, smirking down at his messy, disheveled look, as he spread his own legs and slipped a finger into himself, letting out a shuddering moan that caused Thranduil to smile. Thranduil’s hands snaked up to his hips and gripped him there, and Thorin had to hold back from rubbing his cock against Thranduil’s.

Thorin slipped another finger in and scissored, widening himself in preparation. He gasped and felt his Thranduil’s fingers dig into his hips in an attempt to hold both of them back from bucking themselves to oblivion. He pulled out.

“I’m ready,” he gasped, breathlessly, “You?”

“Eru, yes.”

Thorin smirked and positioned himself above Thranduil’s cock, guiding it into himself. Thranduil arched his back in an attempt to stop himself from bucking into Thorin as he worked him into himself. Both men let out shuddering gasps as their hips met. Thorin could feel Thranduil’s cock throbbing inside of himself, and he could take it no longer. He began pumping himself onto Thranduil’s cock.

Thranduil’s hands snaked up to cup Thorin’s cheeks, and he ran a hand through his hair, pulling it to one side so he could watch Thorin’s face. Thranduil bucked with Thorin as they found a rhythm and pace. Thorin’s lips were parted, and slick with saliva, shuddering with every pleasured gasp and moan. His eyes were lidded in ecstasy, eyelids fluttering now and then. Thranduil hungrily committed the face to memory as he bucked into Thorin more forcefully.

Thorin’s arms were shaking with the exertion of holding himself up, and Thranduil happily made it more difficult by taking Thorin’s cock in his hand pumping it furiously. Thorin cried out in ecstatic bliss as Thranduil continued. He quickened his pace, and pumped harder until Thorin’s arm was shaking and he came with a growled moan. His insides contracted involuntarily around Thranduil’s cock and making the elf shudder and come just as hard.

Thranduil caught Thorin before he collapsed, and gently lowered him onto himself, enveloping his arms around him. Thorin pressed a kiss to Thranduil’s shoulder in thanks and he laughed. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell Thorin something but he couldn’t quite remember what it was he wanted to say. The weight of whatever it was settled in his throat but instead of dwelling on it Thranduil sought out Thorin’s hand and linked their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND I'm sorry this chapter took so long...but look it's a sexy chapter. I'm not that pleased with it but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. I'll start writing the next chapter as soon as possible. Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought. Thank you!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Do you really think he could ever love you?”_
> 
> _“Yes,” Thranduil spluttered, and he swallowed unsurely, “I- I think he could.”_

Thranduil blinked in confusion as he looked around at his surroundings. The sky was overcast, and it looked like it might rain…or was that smoke? He was in the midst of some kind of ruins. Buildings were crumbling around him, pillars leant this way and that, and large debris sat in piles of white stone, that had been ground to dust. Thranduil frowned as he began to recognise the town. It was Dale. He was sure it was. He was back in Dale somehow. The clinking of metal made him blanch in fear. He spun on the spot, expecting to come face-to-face with an orc but instead…

…he found himself staring at an all too familiar elven face, his own.

“What…what is going on?” Thranduil looked about himself once more, wondering if he was having some sort of vision or dream.

But nothing wavered or dissipated, and everything seemed as solid and real as life.

His younger self studied him curiously, “You’ve…changed.”

Thranduil met his own blue eyes, “I- I don’t understand.”   
“You wouldn’t,” his younger self replied, and began to circle him. “Your mind has grown dull and clouded over the ages.”

Thranduil grew ridged and his hands began to shake.

“You’ve grown weak and useless.”

He gritted his teeth, “ _We_ have, you mean,” he snapped, feeling dizzy.

There was a rush of wind and Thranduil gasped as a blade met his throat. “Look at you,” his younger self spat in disgust, “You’re _pathetic_.”

“I…I survived,” he answered defiantly.

“Survived? For what?” the blade disappeared from his throat, “For who? For him?”

Thranduil closed his eyes and tried not to think of Thorin, of the night they’d shared…it seemed so far away. He breathed out shakily, feeling an uncontrollable shiver run down his back. Warm hands on his skin, lips on his own, Thorin whispering his name…

“Do you think it is love?” his younger self demanded, “Do you think it is real?”

Thranduil met his doppleganger’s eyes, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t I? _Our_ wife has died. We were going to avenge her, or have you forgotten what our purpose was?”   
“I could never forget!” Thranduil growled, “But it wasn’t the dwarves who caused her death. They didn’t deserve what I - ”  “ _They_ didn’t deserve?” his younger self demanded, “They are the ones who drove the dragons from their mountains and caused the countless drake wars.”

“I was sick of fighting…of watching people die.”

“So,” his double eyed him in disgust, “You became spineless and cowardly, and now sleep with the enemy?”

“No!” he shouted back, “I wasn’t a coward. That was you. _You_ gave up, you refused to help the dwarves out of fear, out of cowardice. I chose to change my ways. Thorin is not the enemy.”

His double growled, and grabbed him by his shirt, shoving him up against a wall and holding his blade against his throat once more, “Changed your ways? You’ve not just changed, you’ve forgotten who you are! You’ve forgotten who you fought for, and now you defile your wife’s very memory.”

Thranduil shook his head, feeling tears roll down his cheeks. It wasn’t true. He’d loved her, he had, but he had moved on, it had been centuries. He’d found someone he cared about, who…who cared for him…

“Do you really think he could ever love you?”

“Yes,” Thranduil spluttered, and he swallowed unsurely, “I- I think he could.”

“Are you ready to die for that uncertainty?”

Thranduil squeezed his eyes shut as his younger self readied his blade - 

And he woke with a shuddering lurch. He sat upright and gasped, clutching at his bed covers.

“Thranduil?”

He turned to Thorin, and gritted his teeth.

The dwarf raised a hand to his cheek, “What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing…I…” he hurriedly got up, taking the doona-cover with him, “It’s fine. Sorry, I’m just…excuse me.”

He disappeared into his bathroom and slammed the door shut, leaning against the sink as he tried to catch his breath.

“Thranduil?”

“I’m fine!” he called through the door, “Just…just feel a bit sick.”

“Thranduil…” there was a pause, “Do you want me to leave?”

The elf sighed, “No…just…just give me a moment.”

He splashed water on his face, and took a few steading breaths, before stepping out of the bathroom to find Thorin sitting in his underwear on the edge of the bed.

“Nightmare?”

Thorin patted the bed beside him and Thranduil sat down.

“Tell me about it?”

“It was…stupid…”

“Tell me about it.”

Thranduil ran a hand through his hair, “I had a…conversation…an argument with…my past-self…”

Thorin grimaced, “I imagine that didn’t go too well.”

“No…” Thranduil nodded, and fisted his covers, “I- he was very angry with me.”

“Are you angry with yourself?”

Thranduil frowned, “Not for the same reasons.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” Thorin waved a hand, “It was just a nightmare. Ignore it.”

Thranduil nodded unsurely.

Thorin sighed, obviously trying to think of a way to change the subject, “You know, last night was the first time I didn’t have a nightmare in this life.”

Thranduil couldn’t help a smile from spreading across his face. He did that. He could do that for Thorin. And wasn’t that a good sign? Wasn’t that a sign this was the right thing to do?

“I’ll go make breakfast,” Thorin patted his leg, and got up, “Go have a shower.”

Thranduil did as he was told, and changed into a nice button-up shirt and jeans, before exiting the bedroom. On the table were a couple of his jams and some warmed-up scones that looked delicious. But Thorin was leaning against the wall staring at his phone with a look of uncertainty on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Dis,” he frowned, “She wants me to come and see the boys today.”

“So?”

Thorin shrugged.

“You’re worried she might remember?”

“A little, yeah.”

Thranduil grimaced, “Well if she does, at least I’ll be there.”

Thorin looked up at him.

“I mean, if you want me to be?”

“Yeah,” and he smiled at him, “You ready for that ‘football and sword fighting’ weekend?”

Thranduil laughed, “We never did get round to that, did we?”

“Well, I’m kind of glad,” Thorin said, pocketing his phone and sitting at the table, “It probably wouldn’t have been very good if I’d remembered everything while we were sword-fighting.”

“They’d only have been sticks.”

“Even so.”

 

After breakfast they headed over to Dis’ house. Fili and Kili met them both at the door, excitedly. Dis made a face when she was almost barrelled over by them and with faux-anger turned on them.

“Boys!” she growled, pushing them to the side, “Just…go.” She then turned to her guests and gave an exasperated sigh, “Come in,” she told them with a laugh. “If you haven’t had some caffeine yet, you’re going to need it.”

Thorin smiled, “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Dis shrugged, and gave him a look as if to say _’your funeral’_ , before she smiled and enveloped him in a hug.

She then pulled Thranduil into a hug, to which he stiffened in surprise before smiling shyly.

“Want some tea or coffee, Lee?” she asked, once she’d released him.

“Uh…No, no thank you,” he replied, clumsily, “I’m fine.”

“Uncle!” Fili cried, “Did you bring the swords!”

Thorin held up the wooden toys, and waved them about, “Course I did.”

“Yes!” Kili exclaimed, “I want to be on Fili’s team!”

Thorin laughed, “Okay, okay…go outside,” he threw the swords at the boys and they caught two out of three, before grabbing the last and running out of the room, “I’ll be out in a bit!” Thorin called after them.

“I really shouldn’t have let them have pancakes for breakfast…” Dis shook her head, “They’ve been running around all morning.”

Thranduil laughed, “I’m sure they’ll tire after a couple of sword fights.”

Dis smiled, “Not before he does,” she jabbed a finger at her brother.

Thorin stuck his tongue out at Dis and she shook her head, muttering ‘children’ under her breath. 

Much to Fili and Kili’s annoyance, they slowly made their way outside. But as soon as they’d sad down Fili and Kili were pulling Thorin out of his seat to come play with them. He seemingly reluctantly, got up to do just that but Thranduil knew he was looking forward to it.

Thranduil laughed as Kili threw a sword at Thorin and he caught it deftly, before swinging it in an arch and bending his knees in a defensive pose.

“You’re an orc, uncle!” Kili cried out.

“And we have to stop you!” Fili added.

Thorin let out a cry before running at the boys. Kili screeched and ran out of the way while Fili jumped into action and met Thorin’s sword with his own.

“Does he do this often?” Thranduil asked Dis, with a smile.

“When he’s free,” she replied with a laugh, “The boys enjoy his company, and it’s nice for them to have a father-figure around,” she shrugged, “They needed one after their father died, and Richard has always been there for them.”

“I’m glad,” he answered.

Fili and Kili swung their swords back and forth clumsily smacking them into Thorin’s outstretched sword. Thorin laughed and backed up, circling them and giving a couple of faux-threatening snarls.

“For Erebor!” the boys exclaimed.

And they ran forwards, swords aloft, before smacking into Thorin’s sword. Thorin staggered slightly and Thranduil frowned. Something was wrong. At the mention of Erebor Thorin’s movements had slowed, his gaze drifting. He saw Thorin’s grip on his sword tighten and noticed the muscles in his arm go taut. Thranduil threw himself from his seat and rushed forward to catch Thorin’s arm before he swung a destructive blow into one of the boys. He wrestled with him for a moment before Thorin’s blurry, unfocused gaze met his and he blinked in recognition, breathing heavily and stepping back.

He looked about himself, confusedly, before clenching his jaw and pushing passed Thranduil, “I need to…get a drink…” he said, heading for the house.

Thranduil turned to watch him go, wondering if he should follow or not.

“Richard?” Dis called out.

Thranduil caught her arm, before she could follow, “I- I think he just needs some space.”

She frowned, “Is he alright?”

Thranduil sighed, “I don’t know. I thought he was getting better…” he really had. He wondered if this was something permanent, if Thorin would just have to live with random flashbacks to a frightening past.

“Mum?” Fili asked, “What’s wrong?”

Kili frowned, “Did we do something?”

Dis crouched down in front of the boys, “Go play for a bit. Your uncle’s just feeling a little sick.” Then she rose, and turned to Thranduil, “Could you try talking with him? He never opens up to me but…you two seem fairly close.”

Thranduil shrugged, “I’ll try.”

He hesitated before stepping inside; though, it didn’t take him long to find Thorin. He was sitting on the couch in the main room, staring at the floor. His hands were balled into fists, knuckles white, and they were shaking. Thranduil sat beside him and took Thorin’s sweaty hand.

“What happened?” he asked, gently.

“I-” Thorin licked his lips, “I was in Erebor for a moment, defending it.”

Thranduil sighed, so he’d been correct. “A flashback?”

Thorin shrugged, “I don’t know…It felt so real. I saw an orc running at me and I went to swing my sword and then…then you were there, but it was- you wore your silver armour, and you had your elven sword…your hair was short and your face- it looked like it does now but…but I was going to kill you, right there- I would have…”

“Thorin…” Thranduil grimaced, pulling him close, “You couldn’t have hurt me.”

“I know but…I thought I had a real sword. I thought I was going to kill you,” he shook his head, “If you hadn’t stepped in I might have hurt Fili or Kili. How did you know…?”

Thranduil squeezed his hand, reassuringly, “Your gaze drifted for a moment…you sometimes did it before you remembered everything.”

"The worst thing about it is…” Thorin looked down at their joined hands, and cupped them with his free hand, “It’s not the first time it’s happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“After I remembered everything my memories were mixed and confused…but they quickly sorted themselves out. I sometimes dreamt of the past but I could always distinguish between now and then!” he growled in frustration, “But recently- for a while now…maybe a couple weeks…I’ve been having vivid flashbacks of Erebor, and there’s this-” he clutched at his chest, “pull toward something. I feel like I need to do something.”

Thranduil swallowed, and wondered if now would be the time to mention the map he’d found. Maybe the map was a way to find Erebor…maybe it was Thorin’s destiny to re-find his old home…but what if the map only made things worse. Thranduil worried his lip as Thorin continued to explain.

“It feels the same as I did during the quest for Erebor,” Thorin ran a hand across his beard, “I knew it was my destiny, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And now, again, in my chest there’s this heaviness…this need, to see it. And I think it’s getting worse.” He hung his head in defeat, and sighed, “It sounds stupid.”

“As apposed to everything else?” Thranduil shook his head, “Maybe this is a side-effect of your reincarnation. Maybe it’s something else,” he tilted Thorin’s head so that he was looking at him, “Either way, we’ll work it out, okay?”

Thorin gave him a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah…”

Thranduil pulled him into a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is so hard to write now that they’re finally together. I can write angst, but I really struggle with romance and fluff…so, I’m sorry if this is shit. I hope you like it, nevertheless! I'm sorry this took so long. Please leave a comment.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There was something wrong, Thorin knew it. He suddenly felt uneasy. Thranduil had that guilty expression on his face, the one he’d worn throughout all their arguments…it was like he’d done something to cause this situation. Thorin felt a cold chill run down his back._
> 
> _“What did you do?” he demanded._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Liz](http://ismylifejustfantasy.tumblr.com/) for being my beta for this chapter.

Thorin woke with a start and looked about him. He was in a strange room, sitting in a bed with…with someone. That someone sat up and gave him a worried look, speaking words he couldn’t understand. The person…they were Thranduil, elf Lord. Why was he sitting in bed with the King of Mirkwood?

“Thranduil,” he snarled, and clambered out of bed, “Kûr…?” (Where?)

“Thorin?” the elf edged towards him.

“Ithmir!” (Get away!)

He gritted his teeth and wondered where he was, why he wasn’t in Erebor, and why the elf Lord was with him.

“Thorin,” Thranduil tried again, frowning. After a moment in which he seemed to be trying to remember something, he patted his chest, “Umral.” (close friend)

Thorin grimaced. What was the damned elf talking about? Where in Mahal’s name was he?

“Umral,” Thranduil repeated.

“Idribtu!” Thorin shouted, “Lu akraditu!” (Stop it! I don’t believe you!)

“Smaug…” Thranduil squinted for a moment, “mamarda.” (Smaug…is dead.)

Thorin frowned. It couldn’t be true, “Smaug mamarda?”

He frowned as images of Smaug’s dead face entered his mind; the face of a man, mouth open, eyes sightless, lying lifeless on the floor. He’d been shot dead…with…with a gun…by Thranduil. He frowned at the elf, and felt his head spin and his vision blur. Thranduil…Lee…

“I-” he rubbed a hand across his face, and through his beard, “I- I dreamt I was in Erebor…” he looked up and met Thranduil’s worried gaze, before looking away, “I forgot everything, for a moment.”

He felt sick. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to remember and then that would be it.

“I- I can’t keep doing this, Thranduil,” he growled in frustration, feeling his eyes sting, “I feel like I’m going mad.”

“Thorin,” Thranduil placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to meet the elf’s eyes, “I’m sorry…”

Thorin sighed, “What for?”

Thranduil frowned, “I-”

“What?”

There was something wrong, Thorin knew it. He suddenly felt uneasy. Thranduil had that guilty expression on his face, the one he’d worn throughout all their arguments…it was like he’d done something to cause this situation. Thorin felt a cold chill run down his back.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“If I’d know I might have…” Thranduil looked down, and his hands were shaking, “I’m sorry…When we were in Smaug’s building, after I’d killed him, I found…”

He felt sick. What had Thranduil done that he was so frightened of? What could he have possibly done to warrant such guilt?

“What?” Thorin growled.

He couldn’t have betrayed him…he couldn’t have…? Thranduil wouldn’t…he’d changed. But what if he hadn’t? What if he’d never intended to. He could have been pretending the whole time…what if this really was a form of manipulation?

“What did you find?”

Thranduil swallowed, “I found a map…and a key,” the elf didn’t meet his eyes, “They were dwarven. I…I think the map leads- leads to Erebor.”

Thorin felt his heart flutter, and his chest constrict, “Let me see it!” he growled.

Thranduil hurtled himself off of the bed, and pulled at his drawer, before fishing the map and key out and handing them to Thorin.

He stared at them for a moment, and the letters and symbols swam before his eyes, at first unrecognisable and then he began to understand them. They were old Khuzdul. If this was a map to Erebor…he could find his city once more. He could rebuild Erebor, and rule over it- No…no that was a time long gone…but if Erebor existed…he needed to see it, if only to know it was safe, if only to walk its halls one last time.

“You kept this from me,” he asked, incredulously, “Why?”

“I-I thought it would make it harder for you to move on…”

“As opposed to this?” Thorin demanded, gesturing to his head, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Thranduil had been doing this on purpose. He had been pretending this whole time, to get into his head, to drive him mad. He’d remembered and Thranduil couldn’t take it. He had to make him suffer-

“I’m sorry, Thorin, I shouldn’t have…” Thranduil’s voice broke, “I don’t know why I didn’t just give it to you…I-I’ll leave-”

Thorin rubbed at his forehead, feeling dizzy and confused. Something didn’t feel right. He shouldn’t be this angry, not at Thranduil. Thranduil had only ever tried to help him in this lifetime…he wouldn’t betray him. That- that was a fear he’d long since crushed. He wasn’t a King, and Thranduil wasn’t a Lord, and they weren’t fighting any longer. They had come to an understanding- no, more than that, they had become very good friends.

Thranduil rose to leave.

Thorin grabbed his wrist before he could go too far, “Stop.”

“I betrayed you once again. I’d understand if you wanted me to go.” Thranduil answered, his voice wavering.

Thorin shook his head, and looked up at him, “No, Thranduil…” He let out a calming breath, “I’m sorry I shouted at you…Y-you scared me.”

“Scared you?”

“I thought for a moment that you…” Thorin looked away, “had been pretending and this was all some elaborate plan…I thought for a moment you were using me…”

“Thorin!” Thranduil exclaimed in horror, “I could never!” he shakily knelt in front of Thorin, “Shit,” he swore uncharacteristically, desperately taking Thorin’s hands in his own, “I’m not- I could never- I’m not that elf. I never intended to hurt you. I thought…I thought I was doing the right thing…I’m sorry.” 

Thranduil looked down, and his whole body was shaking, tears falling down his face, and Thorin knew without a doubt that the elf wasn’t lying.

“I- I always seem to ruin things…it doesn’t matter what I do. I always make the wrong decisions. I’d never want to hurt you. I couldn’t- I love you…I-”

“You love me?” Thorin asked.

Thranduil froze.

“You love me?” he repeated, incredulously, taking Thranduil’s chin in his hand and tilting his face up so that their eyes met.

Thranduil nodded, shakily, and Thorin felt his eyes begin to water. He’d been so stupid, so blind. How could he have thought for even a moment that Thranduil was pretending. He threw the map from his hand and cupped Thranduil’s face, before pressing a slow, loving kiss to Thranduil’s lips.

“I’m sorry-” he spluttered, “For doubting you.”

Thranduil shuddered and relieved tears began to flow freely from his eyes as Thorin pulled him into a tighter embrace. They held one another for a long time, and eventually Thranduil’s shuddering stopped, and his breathing evened out. Thranduil reluctantly pushed himself up from the floor to shower and clean himself up, muttering something about needing to sort a few things out at the Pie Café that day.

Thorin nodded, and gave Thranduil a reassuring smile that he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes. Thranduil noticed, of course, but didn’t say anything about it as he dressed. Before Thranduil left he gave Thorin a quick peck on the lips. But Thorin wasn’t having any of that. He grabbed a hold of the lapels of Thranduil’s jacket, and brought him back to himself, pressing his lips in a desperate, terrified kiss, and wanting to hold Thranduil there forever.

But he knew he had to let go of Thranduil. At least until he sorted out his unresolved feelings about the past.

When Thranduil was gone Thorin turned back to his room with a heavy sigh. Thranduil was going to be mad at him when he found out…but there was nothing else for it. Everything in his being was pulling him out the door, toward a mountain he wasn’t even sure still existed. His head was plagued with a need to find it, his heart ecstatic with hope of finding it. He didn’t know if finding Erebor would heal his confused mind, or make it worse, but he knew eventually he would go looking for it, and it was best to start now than leave it to distract him from everything else in his life.

He packed and half an hour later he set out, and hailed a taxi. When he arrived at the Underground he grabbed his back-pack, pulled it onto his shoulder and headed for the entrance to the subway.

“Thorin!”

He flinched. How the hell had Thranduil found him? He tried to ignore the shout as he kept moving, passing into denser crowds.

“Thorin, wait!”

Thranduil grabbed his wrist and pulled him to a stop. He turned to him, frustratedly.

“Thorin, I know how much this means to you but don’t go, not just yet,” Thranduil pleaded, “Not without me.”

He sighed, “When would we go?” he asked, “You have your own life here. I don’t. I have little to no present life. All I’ve got is memories from a past life that keep running circles in my head,” he took Thranduil’s shaking hand, “And I need to face them, all of them.”

“I know,” Thranduil nodded, stepping closer, “I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to wait, just a little longer. I can step away from my businesses, they’ll be fine. That’s not why I’m asking. I want to study the map just a little longer, find out exactly where it wants us to go.”

“Us?” Thorin looked down.

Thranduil squeezed his hand, “I’m coming with you.” 

Thorin didn’t answer.

“I have some knowledge of maps and I’m unsure whether it is wise for you to follow it blindly without a little hesitancy,” the elf added, “Most dwarven maps have secrets.”

Thorin sighed, and after a moment relented, “Okay.”

“Just one week,” Thranduil assured him.

They walked back to the street hand-in-hand, and Thorin curiously asked, “How did you find me?”

“Adam - uh Ori. You’ve still got your phone hooked up to his computers. He told me where you were.”

Thorin laughed, “I shouldn’t be surprised, really.”

 

Thranduil spent a week looking over the map and studying it in comparison with other maps. Thorin watched over his shoulder. He knew very little about maps, other than how to read them but Thranduil had studied them over centuries, and knew all their secrets. So, it wasn’t surprising when he began to notice this map’s secrets.

“It’s changing.”

Thorin looked up from the google search on star-maps that he had open, and frowned, “What do you mean?”

“The map is changing slightly, every day, and in the moonlight the words change too.”

“What? How?”

Thranduil shrugged, “Well it is very old, and probably imbued with a lot of elvish magic,” then he tilted his head and frowned, “Come over here and tell me what this says. My Khuzdul is very limited.”

“When did you even learn Khuzdul?” Thorin asked as he wandered over to look over Thranduil’s shoulder.

“Here and there. I lived with the dwarves for a while, remember?”

Thorin wondered who it was who’d given him lessons. He doubted it would have been any of his company. Perhaps Gloin’s son? He had been quite enamoured with Thranduil’s son after all. But, Thorin guessed, that depended on if Thranduil had changed his ways during Gimli’s lifetime.

“So?”

Thorin studied the writing, and frowned, “The words _have_ changed. The instructions to find Erebor…I swear they were different.”

“See, this is why I wanted you to stay a little longer,” Thranduil said.

Thorin sighed, “Yeah, yeah, you were right,” and gave a short laugh, before kissing Thranduil’s head and stepping back over to his computer, “What does this mean, then?”

“There’s no need to change our plan,” Thranduil answered, “We’re still going. It just means we’ll need to work together to read the map. It has many secrets, elvish and dwarvish alike. Ironic, don’t you think?” He gave Thorin a huge grin, “Only a dwarf can read the map, and only an elf can interpret it.”

Thorin laughed, and then rolled his eyes, “Okay mighty elf, what in Mahal’s name does it mean? Why does it keep changing?”

"I believe it is affected by time,” Thranduil answered, “It has moon runes, and the instructions keep changing depending on the time of day or night.”

“And?”

“I think Erebor has been hidden by a powerful glamour spell.”

Thorin frowned.

“Well it explains why we can’t find it on any modern map.”

“But with this map we should be able to find it?” Thorin asked.

Thranduil shrugged, “We should be able to.”

 

A week later had them making the last preparations for their trip. Thranduil had bought a car for them to use, and they were in the midst of packing it when the thundering noise of motorbikes made them both look up. Eleven pulled up beside their car and for a moment Thorin thought he might have to defend himself, until the lead rider pulled off his helmet and revealed himself to be Dwalin.

“What…what’s going on?”

Each rider got off their bike and took off their helmets in turn, revealing themselves to be Thorin’s own company of dwarves, plus a hobbit. Thorin gave said hobbit a quizzical look.

Bilbo laughed, “You didn’t really think you could go on an adventure without us, did you?”

Thorin scoffed, “Where did you get the motorbikes?”

“Curtesy of ye elf friend,” Dwalin answered.

Thorin turned to Thranduil in surprise.

The elf shrugged, “I thought I should inform them of where we were going…and they wanted to see Erebor too,” he smiled, “They wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Thorin looked down and swallowed the lump in his throat, before looking up at them all with gratitude, “Thank you,” he smiled, “I didn’t expect anything more from you all. You have done so much for me, already.”

“You’re family, laddie,” Balin grinned, slapping a hand on his shoulder, “Course we’d be willing to help.”

“What’s all this dilly-dallying?” Gloin asked, “Should we not get on with it?

Dwalin nodded, “Aye, we have a long trip ahead of us.”

Thranduil nodded, “There’s room in the car for your bags. We’ll leave in about five-ten minutes?” he gave Thorin a questioning look.

Thorin nodded, “That’s about right.”

They got into the car, and Thorin sat back in his seat for a moment lost for words. He shook his head and laughed.

“You continue to surprise me, elf.”

Thranduil grinned at him, “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are nearing the end!! Once the last chapter is posted I'll upload the last video. Also, I'm not very happy with this chapter, I'm really sorry...I hope you enjoyed it, anyway. Please leave a comment! Thank you.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Anything new?”_
> 
> _“Yes, actually,” Thranduil answered, “The map hasn’t changed in a while. I think we’re nearly there.”_

It was a cold night. Thorin had the car’s heater on high, and Thranduil sat in the back seat with a blanket around him, looking over the map with a torch. Thorin was in a melancholic mood, and had been for the majority of the trip.

“You’re going to live for centuries, right?”

Thranduil shrugged, “Maybe.”

Thorin grimaced, and gripped the steering wheel tighter, “You said once that a hundred years was a mere blink in the life of an elf…what happens when you blink and I die?”

Thranduil looked up, and tried to think of a response. He couldn’t say that it wouldn’t happen; it might, it very well might. But he wasn’t going to accept that either.

“Perhaps, we'll be lucky and you'll be returned to me once again,” he answered instead.

“What happens if I don't remember you?”

“I'll make you remember.”

“And if you don't manage to?”

Thranduil put his papers to the side, and sighed, “Thorin, I’ll love you, whoever you end up being, whatever your name becomes.”

“But what if I don't come back?” Thorin asked, angrily, “What if I die and don't return?”

“No elf was meant to live this long in Middle Earth…or Modern Earth.” 

Thorin sighed, and was about to respond when Thranduil placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I know elves are said to be immortal but I have to wonder when does time become too much for us? If I die - when I die, I will go looking for you.”

But there were so many ways that life and death could keep them apart, “Dwarves don’t have a certain idea of the afterlife…” he explained, “I might never go to the Halls of Mandos.”

“Even so…Eru and Aulë made an exception for you when you returned from the dead, what makes you think they won't do the same in death?”

“Perhaps…” Thorin shook his head, “You are surprisingly optimistic tonight.”

“I have much to be optimistic about,” Thranduil answered with a laugh, settling back into his seat, “Smaug and Azog are dead, your family are alive, and I have you.”

“Morgoth may return.”

Thranduil scoffed, “Can’t you be a little optimistic?” Then he sighed, “He won't return tonight.”

Thorin nodded. He guessed Thranduil was right. But what if…

“There’s a myth…” Thorin said after a moment, “that after the Last Battle dwarves will work alongside Mahal to rebuild Arda. Maybe the world _is_ meant to end.”

Thranduil looked up, and out the window at the black, starless night, “Maybe,” he answered, solemnly.

It was 10pm when they pulled into a motel and got a set of rooms. Some of the dwarves had to share because of how large their group was but they didn’t seem to mind. Thorin and Thranduil, thankfully, got a room to themselves. Thranduil was laying on the bed with the map in his hands still, going over the writing again and again, referring back to his notes, and tilting the browning paper under the moonlight. Thorin sighed and pulled it out from under his nose.

“Hey!”

“You need to get some sleep,” Thorin pointed out.

Thranduil pouted, “I don’t need that much sleep, and you were the one who was driving.”

The elf rolled over onto his back and Thorin sat on the edge of the bed with him, looking down at the map, “Anything new?”

“Yes, actually,” Thranduil answered, “The map hasn’t changed in a while. I think we’re nearly there.”

Thorin looked down at him, “Really?” before looking back at the map and tilting it under the light, “It says to go North-East from here. That’s countryside.”

Thranduil nodded, “Which means we have a long hike ahead of us.”

“Which we will be leaving for the morning,” Thorin answered, “For now we both need to sleep.”

Thranduil huffed a faux-exasperated sigh, and moved over to the other side of the bed, giving Thorin enough room to lie down next to him. As Thorin settled down, the elf wrapped an arm around his chest, and they both fell asleep soon afterwards.

 

In the morning Thranduil woke up to find the bed empty, and Thorin no where in sight. He got up quickly and looked about the room, noticing the map was gone too.

“Eru be damned, where’s he got to now?” he grumbled clambering out of bed and pulling some pants and a jumper on before heading out.

He didn’t have to look far. Thorin was standing on the other side of the road, looking out across the countryside with the map in his hands. Thranduil sighed, grabbed a blanket and ran over to him. He must have been freezing. He was only in his boxer shorts. The elf wrapped the blanket around him, and frowned as he saw Thorin’s ghostly stare.

“Thorin?”

There was no response. 

Thranduil shook him gently, “Thorin?”

The dwarf visibly shuddered before looking at Thranduil in confusion, “What?” he looked about him, “I- I must have sleep walked.”

Thranduil sighed, and took the map from him gently, “Yeah, come on, let’s get inside. It’s freezing.”

Thorin was like that all day, detached, quiet, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts. They had breakfast with the company, and explained their plan for the day. Thorin had nothing to add. They had showers, and got changed, and packed their gear into backpacks. Thorin worked silently, and meticulously.

It was driving Thranduil insane, but he knew why it was happening. It was because they were so close. They were almost there, almost…home; and maybe then Thorin would finally be able to accept his fate and move on.

They hiked for days, and then days turned into weeks. Thorin adopted a ridiculous pace that had the shorter dwarves, and hobbit, struggling to keep up. Thranduil had to continuously stop Thorin with water breaks and map-checks just so the others could keep up. Eventually though, Thorin became so agitated that they could no longer stop as much, and the group fell behind. Not far enough that they couldn’t see Thorin and Thranduil, especially as the land inclined, but far enough that Thranduil couldn’t make out any of the company’s faces. Even Thranduil began to struggle to keep up with Thorin, and at points when he stopped to rest he had to call out to the dwarf just to find out where he’d gone. 

One of these moments Thorin had climbed quite far up, ahead of Thranduil, and when he felt the burning in his chest subside, and a strange recognition grow in his mind, he paused and looked about, discovering a strange crevice to his right.

He turned from it and waved down at Thranduil, "Over here!" he shouted, before the familiarity of the gesture froze him to the spot. 

The deja vu came to him suddenly and with such a white hot ferocity that he almost doubled over with nausea. He felt a chill run through him like someone had just walked over his grave; he realised with another pang of icy-nausea that he could have done it that very afternoon and not noticed. He was seeing double again, like that first day he had remembered, and the similarities were as startling as the differences, considering everything.

When Thranduil saw his expression he slowed his approach, “Thorin?”

Thorin closed his eyes and felt dizzy and unbalanced and his mouth formed Khuzdul even as his mind was shouting _it’s the twenty-first century! You’re alive! Everything’s changed! You’re not there anymore! Thranduil is no longer your enemy!_

“…B…birashagimi…” (I regret).

Thorin felt a hand on his cheek and looked up to meet silver eyes, and a kind, worried look. He saw a friend in an enemy, a lover in a stranger and stopped, brought a hand up to his own head and worried at his curls, clutched them and pulling, trying to remember himself and where he was.

Thranduil pulled him forward into a hug, “Shh,” he muttered, “Just breathe. We knew this might happen.”

For a moment Thorin didn’t recognise the words being spoken to him, and he felt uneasy - both with being touched and with being spoken to in this other language - and then the confusion began to fade, and he remembered the Westeron, and he remembered that it was now called English, and that Thranduil was not an enemy or a stranger and that he hadn’t returned home…he was only visiting what had once been his home.

“Men gajamu- uh.” He winced and tried again in English, “Sorry.”

Thranduil gently let him go and smiled, reassuringly, “It’s fine,” he said.

“I hate it,” Thorin muttered.

Thranduil took one of Thorin’s stray hairs and readjusted it behind his ear.

“I hate forgetting you,” Thorin added, “Even for a moment…just being confused…I hate it.”

“I know,” the elf answered, solemnly. “We’re almost there, though, I can feel it.”

The magic was strong in this area, it was running under them like currents and Thranduil could feel it, though it seemed to ignore him as if he were human. He didn’t mind. He’d come to terms with with his fate, though it would have been nice to feel connected to the earth, and to nature like he had before. 

Once Thorin had calmed down a little Thranduil took his hand and they clambered down into the crevice together. It opened up into a tunnel that they followed for a while. The stone walls practically glowed with magic for Thranduil, but Thorin seemed quite blind in the dark. The dwarf took out his torch when it became too much.

After about twenty minutes they reached a seemingly dead end, and Thorin retrieved the key from his pack and shone the torch across the wall, looking for a keyhole. He remembered how hard it was the first time and hoped it wouldn’t be as difficult. Unfortunately, though, after what seemed like ages he still couldn’t find it.

“Let me have a try,” Thranduil said.

Thorin stepped back and watched as Thranduil lay his palms on the wall and closed his eyes. The elf concentrated on feeling the energy in the wall. He had a tiny bit of his own magic left, which he used to latch on to what was in the rock around them, and he let it pull his mind into his surroundings, letting it show him where the wall’s secrets were. After a moment he held out his hand for the key, and once Thorin gave it to him, he took a deep breath, pushed further into the magic and there- He clicked the key into place and turned it.

There was a crack, and the wall gave way.

“How did you…?” Thorin asked in surprise.

“I can feel the magic coming off of this place.”

Thorin frowned, “Can you…” he trailed off, “Can you gain some back?”

Thranduil shook his head, “No, it’s too late.” He gave a reassuring smile, “But I’ve accepted that, don’t worry.”

Thorin nodded unsurely, before taking Thranduil's hand, “Okay…well, shall we?”

They stepped through into the passage beyond; it was tight, but without a doubt Dwarven-made. Thorin scoffed at the height of the passage and found himself having to crouch down, along with Thranduil, as they moved on.

“I didn’t realise how small we were,” he laughed.

They reached the end of the passage, and stepped out into the main hall. Thorin let out a heartfelt breath of relief at the sight of the enormous hall. The ceiling rose above them, held up with intricately decorated pillars of stone. The floor was a smooth, mirrored slab below his feet, and thankfully, clear of gold. His people had long-cleared it all away. They had rebuilt too, he could see it in the sealed cracks of pillars, in the new statues and replaced bridges.

He was Home.

He couldn’t believe it. Smaug and Azog were no more, his company were all alive, most of his family present, and he was finally, properly, home. His legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor.

“Thorin!” Thranduil gasped, “Are you okay?”

He nodded, shakily, and began to laugh. Thranduil knelt beside him and smiled at him. Thorin grinned back, through tears that were now rolling down his cheeks. He pulled Thranduil into a kiss, whispering gratitude into his mouth, and upon his cheek and into the crevice of his shoulder, as he shook with relief and laughter.

“Hey, hey,” Thranduil ran a hand through his hair, and held him, “You’re home.”

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered, “Thank you…I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Thranduil let him go and smiled, “It’s fine,” he laughed, getting up and helping Thorin to his feet. “We should get the others. Do you want to come or…”

“I’ll stay,” Thorin answered.

“You sure?”

He gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll still be here. I just want to have a look around.”

Thranduil made a face, “And if you get lost?”

“I won’t,” Thorin answered, “I’ll head to the Dining Hall once I’m done. The others will show you where it is, if you don’t know.”

Thorin pressed a kiss to Thranduil’s head and the elf left.

 

When Thorin reached the Dining Hall the rest of the Company were already there. He felt a bit guilty for having been late to arrive but no one seemed to hold it against him. Instead Dwalin stepped over and pulled him into a huge hug, calling him King and ruffling his hair until it began to fall out of its bun.

Thorin glared but didn’t mind it.

He loved it in fact. Everyone was there, and everyone was happy. Bilbo and Bofur were having a quiet and private moment in the corner, while Ori, Nori and Dori were setting out lunch with Bifur and Bombur. Thranduil was in the midst of talking with Balin and Dwalin, and he was laughing with them, as he watched Thorin with a happy glint in his eyes. It was an odd sight, to see dwarves in the faces of men, and an elf standing in Erebor amongst them, but it was a good sight nonetheless.

The Dining Hall was mostly unchanged, though the stone table had been replaced with one unbroken. It was just large enough to fit them all at it, and though it was smaller than they were each used to, it was theres. They had dinner around it, and talked of the past and of the present, and Thorin couldn’t be happier as he held Thranduil’s hand and laughed and joked with everyone.

The plan was that after dinner they would set up camp in the Dining Hall and sleep there before going off to explore the mountain in the morning. There was talk of moving to the Lonely Mountain and living there permanently, but Thorin knew it was only talk. There was no livestock or food for miles and they had modern lives to get back to. He knew for a fact that Ori would never forgive them if he never got to use one of his computers again. It was a nice thought, but not a realistic one. He let them imagine it, though; it made them smile, and it made him happy.

Everyone was excited to explore the mountain, and Thorin knew very few of them would actually get a good night sleep because of that. He’d explored only a small section since they’d arrived, and he’d already found so many places he’d missed. The library was just one of those places, and he knew Thranduil would love it. It wasn’t the only place he knew Thranduil would love.

Thorin grinned to himself before leaning over and whispering into Thranduil’s ear, “I want to show you something.”

Thranduil looked up, with a humorous glint in his eyes, “Do you think the others would miss us?”

“No,” Thorin said with a smile, “I doubt they’ll notice. Come on,” he took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

He guided Thranduil through to the main hall, and to a staircase that spiralled up. It was quite a long walk but they didn’t rush it. Thorin pointed out statues, and explained their meaning, or halls, which he had run through as a child. Thranduil explained his own experiences with Erebor, about where he’d stayed, and humorous moments he’d had with dwarves because of misunderstandings with his magic and knowledge. Young dwarves had found him the most interesting, and he liked to leave them guessing as to what he was: elf, sorcerer or wizard.

Finally, they reached the last upper level, which opened up onto a long bridge that seemed to go on forever into the darkness. Thorin lead Thranduil along it, until the elf realised that the bridge wasn’t endless. It stopped at an overhang, which looked out across the countryside below. Thranduil’s eyes widened at the sight of the star-filled night, and the rolling hills. Far away he could see the glowing lights of a town, and for a moment expected it to be Laketown, before he realised it was the town they had stayed the night at, all those weeks ago.

“What do you think?” Thorin asked, as they sat down on a stone bench.

“It’s…amazing,” Thranduil shook his head in disbelief, “I’ve not seen anything so beautiful in a long time…I didn’t even know this place existed.”

Thorin smiled, “That would be because it is a special place,” he answered, “Only the Royal Family are allowed up here…and guests.”

Thranduil squeezed Thorin’s hand, “I’m honoured that you allowed me to see it.”

Thorin grinned, and kissed him, “Don’t be,” he laughed, “You’re family now.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened, and he blushed, before looking down.

"I used to come up here as a teenager when I wanted some peace and quiet. Dis and Frerin never really enjoyed it up here.” Thorin smiled, “I used to sit here and read or sing, and sometimes a raven would join me and I’d talk to it,” he laughed, “It was silly but it helped me think, sometimes.”

Thranduil smiled, “It’s wonderful.”

Thorin shrugged, and looked out across the plain, “I was up here a lot. Especially, when I knew visitors were coming. I saw you once, with your elven guard, riding across the hills towards us.” He said, point out across the plain, “You were a silver glow on the dully-coloured field.” 

Thranduil looked out to see where he was pointing and wondered if Thorin had watched with anticipation or trepidation.

After a moment Thorin sighed, “This would make a good look-out.”

Thranduil frowned, “What do you mean?”

“If Morgoth returned, we’d need a place to defend ourselves from him,” he answered, “Erebor is the only place left that might hold out against his wrath. If we could gather people here, build an army-”

Thranduil took Thorin’s face in his hands, “Don’t think like that…we don’t know-”

Thorin pulled away, “I’ve been lost too long in the past. I need to start considering our future…to start preparing for the worst…”

“We can prepare,” Thranduil answered, “But don’t become fixated on it like you have in the past. We can do it, just don’t think about it tonight.”

“So…” Thorin smiled, picking up on the _’we’_ that Thranduil had used, “You’re here to stay, then?”

“I made the mistake of turning my back on you once before,” Thranduil answered, taking Thorin’s hand and pressing it to his lips, “I won’t make that mistake again." 

Thranduil leant his forehead against Thorin’s and stared into his blue eyes, which were glassy with relief.

“Whatever is to come,” he told him, “We’ll face it together.”

_THE END_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And…here we are. What a ride! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this and commented. I have loved reading your comments, especially the long ones!! It has been an honour to write for you lot. I’m still so shocked at the number of readers, and comments! Woah. I really hope you enjoyed this fic. Though at times it gave me a lot of grief, I enjoyed writing it. (I can’t believe I exceeded 60k tho lmao). I hope this won’t be the last I hear from you, and you will be able to find something else in my works to enjoy reading. 
> 
> I wish you all have a great Christmas and a happy New Year! And if you don’t celebrate Christmas, then have a wonderful holiday!

**Author's Note:**

> Banner art and videos are by me. Here are the three videos for the story (beware for spoilers):  
> [Part 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyOyE3_u7Zw) \- Ch1-11  
> [Part 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v91td5k5I-U) \- Ch11-18  
> [Part 3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnY-tMzJKT8) \- Ch18-27  
> [Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6y3PKs-9Rcs&feature=youtu.be)


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